INFATUATION by Marion Sharville ©

I met him in the shoe shop,
he was trying on a shoe.
His socks were full of holes
but Oh!… his eyes were blue.

Dad says he needs a haircut,
short back and sides would do.
I like his little pig-tail
and Oh!… his eyes are blue.

He wears Bob Dylan’s sweat shirt
that was worn at every ‘do’.
Mum says he should have washed it
but Oh!… his eyes are blue.

I’m meeting him on Sunday,
what is a girl to do?
Mum says to keep on walking
but Oh!… his eyes are blue.

WORTHING WOOD (To the rhythm of Teddy Bears Picnic)A tanker, ICE PRINCE sank off the coast of Dorset on 29th Jan ’08 and jettisoned all of its cargo of wood. Mountains of it ended on Worthing and nearby beaches.

If you go down to the beach, today, you’re sure of a big surprise.
There’s tons of it on the beach today, you wouldn’t believe your eyes.

Seems, every plank that ever there was, has gathered there for certain, because
a tanker sank and jettisoned all of its cargo.

Every-one in the neighbourhood thinks they’re in luck, today,
with floorboards needing to be replaced and sheds that have had their day.

They do not care if anyone sees and hang around as long as they please
until they find a chance to have a quick nick.

Quick-nick time for passers-by, the lucky D.I.Y’s are having a lovely time, today.
See that gleam light up their eyes and watch them start to drag it all away.

Watch them gaily run about, they even sing and shout, “Just take a look at my stack.”
At six o’clock the policemen will stop them and send them all away
but not before they’ve made them put it back.

If you go down to the beach, today, you’d better beware your toes.
There’s danger down on the beach, today, it won’t be just hard stones,

for every splinter that ever there was, is gathered there for certain because
a tanker sank and jettisoned all of its cargo.

©  Marion Sharville 

WHAT PRICE ST GEORGE?

(Written years ago when we still had Council Houses and Rent Collectors.)

 The dragon thought he’d like to move
for he’d eaten all his neighbours
and was feeling rather lonely
as the result of all his labours.

He did not know just where to go
so, to the council wrote
and received by post, next morning,
a short official note.

We have received your letter
and the matter is now in hand.
We’re short of accommodation
but we’re sure you’ll understand.

We’re sorry to have to tell you,
to confirm your very worst fears
that you won’t qualify for a house
for at least a hundred years.

A hundred years? Too long, he roared
for even a dragon to wait.
Annoyed, he chased the postman
and swallowed him, whole, at the gate.

I’ll write and tell the council,
if they let me loose in town,
the numbers on their waiting list
will substantially be cut down.

The suggestion received at the Town Hall
was not without attraction
but the Chairman didn’t think that they
could really approve of the action.

We’ll call a special meeting
to dicuss the whole affair.
I’m sure, if we thrash the matter out
we’ll find an answer somewhere.

A dragon isn’t quite the type
of tenant that we need
and the shortage of rent collectors,
even now, is acute indeed.

The affair was too big to handle
so they decided to pass the buck.
They passed it to the Government,
with the best of British luck.

The M.P’s decided a dragon
lowered the general tone
so, to force it from the country,
they created a smokeless zone.

The dragon was deported
to a country, far away
and at a Cabinet meeting,
much later that same day,

‘we’ve really rendered a service,’
was the motion they debated,
for the country that he’s gone to
is over-populated.

© Marion Sharville    

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