I studied numbers infinite in desire.

Western Cork’s relaxed in winter sun
Unexpected pleasure, though desired
Uncork that wine and let’s enjoy some puns.

No-one thinks the Irish need their fun
We may need to have our brains rewired
Western Cork’s pole-axed by winter sun

Now everyone has reason to be glum
Sunny days yet evenings dark as mires
Uncork the wine and let’s thwack our own bums

We like drinking when we’re feeling glum
Spare not the whiskey, hail oh Lanarkshire!
Western folk write cheques in winter sun

When I get undressed, my lover’s stunned.
My generous body shocks his dark green eyes
Uncork the wine and squeeze me, juicy plum

I have no kernel , nut, nor night attire
I studied numbers infinite in desire.
Western Cork can prove dull in mid-June
Uncork the wine and let it make us dumb.

I welcome comments and criticism

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