It’s already going darker and your dinner’s in the pot
Where are you now, my sweetheart? I remember,I forget
I know you liked those kippers smoked in Whitby in a shed
Your breath was something else again, when we went to bed
Then there was the big pie shop, above the mile of beach
We have no pork butcher but we can still buy meat
Men like a steamed pudding hot with home made jam
They like custard, gravy, HP Sauce and ham
We walked out on the causeway and the wind was very wild
We saw the fleet of fishing boats. tossing on the tide
You were so romantic, you went out overnight
But you got sea sickness and your merry face was white
We went up to the Abbey and we saw the cliffs so high
Nature is so beautiful, it makes me want to die
In that stunning moment, when the legs give way
That itself is quite enough,I’ve nothing more to say
Incidentally at the mall” – Counting Sales
“Anarchy in the Class War.” -Police Bristols
“Along Comes Trouble.” by W.Grout
“Captain Slacker” -Billy Joe
“Capello of Limes” -Dixie Jupp
“China Cup” -Market shop
“Dearest biscuit A Cook.
At the end of rhymes.Beyond Shelley. Frieda VerseBooks
A day of sudden changes.Clouds
cross the sky
like whales swimming North in rows.
The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes
with gold and silver.
Wind cut across my face
like a slap from an angry father..
Those who love can also seem to hate us too..
The lure of that small childish body
tempts them to divert their anger towards it.
When the ones who hurt you
are also the ones you love,
it’s hard to know which direction to run in;
but it usually turns into a circle.
Retreating turns into a new arrival.
Straight lines might be better. though
On a spherical earth
difficult to find.
Even parallel lines meet
In their Riemannian geometry.
So we can never get away
Sometimes the best we manage
Is to increase the circle’s radius.
Though how is hard to know.
Do you love me or hate me?
Do you want me to stay or go?
What do I want?Do I have a me?
The memory of warmth draws me back
Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle
To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,
Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals
Finding a strange new one
Looking with tender,puzzled eyes
into His Human Face.
Oh,John Joe was a farmer’s son
They lived up in the hills.
When he went to tend his sheep
He gazed down on cotton mills.
The rivers ran with water pure
And so provided power
Yet over these dark ruined towns
The heathered hills did tower.
Mary was a local girl
She walked out on the moors
She wore a dress of silky cloth
Decorated with wild flowers.
John Joe saw Mary dear
When he was dipping sheep
She peered over a dry stone wall
And saw the new lambs leap.
Her hair was long.Her hair was gold
Her eyes singularly blue.
In John Joe’s eyes she was so fair,
What was a man to do?
He watched her walking all alone
Was she sad or sick?
He showed her how his dog behaved
He showed her shepherds’ tricks.
Then one day,he held her hand
As they walked to the Pike.
They stood up there and gazed all round
So John thought he would strike.
He bent down on his right knee
And spoke to Mary then.
I’ve loved you ,Mary, since we met
I hoped we’d meet again
Mary smiled with her blue eyes;
Her lips were pink and bright.
I love you too and love the hills
And. love the summer light.
The next year they were married
Mary wore white lace.
She looked so happy then
To know she’d her own place.
The church bells rang,the people sang
John and Mary wed!
And naturally, when evening came,
At last they went to bed.
When Mary lay in John Joe’s arms
She knew this was her home.
And so for many. many years
On those loved hills they roamed.
They cared for sheep and hens and goats
They cared for children three.
They never had a falling out
But talked beneath a tree.
From youth to age the years went by
But John still loved his bride.
And Mary too was happy
With John Joe by her side.
Their faces,lined, were full of cheer
Their hair as white as snow
And everywhere that JJ went
Mary too did go.
Until the day came for his death,
He lay down in the grass.
Mary ran and held him close
And thus dear John did pass.
The muffled bells rang from the tower
John Joe was carried in.
The parson prayed and hymns were sung.
The sheep dog made a din.
In the dark earth John was laid
While Mary wept and cried.
What will I do , my my lover John ,
without you by my side?
Mary grieved and wept and sighed
And thus she spent some years…
The loss was great and bent her back
with the weight of care.
When we open up our hearts
We feel both joy and woe.
This is the pattern of our love,
Which like a river flow
Schwartz, an elderly man, is resting peacefully on the porch of his small hotel outside Boca when he sees a cloud of dust up the road. He walks out to see who could be approaching: It is a Southern farmer with a wagon.
“Good afternoon,” says Schwartz.
“Afternoon,” says the farmer.
“Where you headed?” asks Schwartz.
“What do you have in the wagon?”
“Manure, eh? What do you do with it?”
“I spread it over the fruit.”
“Well,” says Bernstein, “you should come over here for lunch someday. We use sour cream.”