There can be a sting to my pen though some may find me mellow
And I am just a working man a no frills working fellow
I make no money from my rhymes I labour for my living
And my gifts I'm prepared to share it's just my way of giving.
I'm harmless if I'm left alone but put me on the defensive
And you may find me not too nice I too can be offensive
My pen the truest friend I have it comes to my assistance
And those who try to put me down must learn to keep their distance.
I have no wish to be a poet my rhymes uncomplicated
Unknown to any sort of fame and never celebrated
And I am just a working man I labour for my living
And my gifts I'm prepared to share it's just my way of giving.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem