Green – The Poem

Green- The Poem

Green is a colour,

verdant, bright;

dark green is duller;

but, it’s still alright.

When I was a younger fellow,

I used to like the colour yellow;

now I’m older, I’ve started to mellow

so now I like green,

you know what I mean.

Green is nature going well

with the rain, as far as I can tell.

Poets write blue, it’s how they write,


when we feel down

in the middle of the night;

and then there is black, of which I have a lack;

though I can be grey every single day.

Then there is purple,

for when I am older,

start wearing purple,

start getting colder

and then there is red

for when I am dead,

have I forgotten any other hue,

there must be millions,

and that must be true.


We received our Vegan Call-up.

We received our Vegan Call-up.

We received our Vegan wake-up

call in the post just yesterday;

now we use Vegan soap and Vegan make up

all the day;

our food habits have drastically changed,

our ideals have been totally rearranged;

we are not the people that once we were;

we don’t eat animals, we don’t wear fur,

our shoes are made of recycled plants;

and we don’t talk about it,

if given half a chance.

A Poem written on Notes microphone.

A Poem written on Notes microphone.

Green is the colour I colour a colour

Verdant bright

Dark green is Gallagh dollar dollar dollar

But it still alright it’s

When I was a young younger fellow a

Are used like the colour the colour yellow now I’m older have started to mellow so like green you know what I mean screen is nature going well will buy the rain smells like in tail as far as I can tell

Pokes light blue and how they write poets

When we feel down in the middle of the night

And then there is black George I have a lack

And I can be grey every single day and then there is purple for when I’m older start wearing purple start getting colder and then there is red when I’m dead and I forgotten any other you must be millions must be true

“Dogs Can’t Clap – Can We?”

“Dogs Can’t Clap – Can We?”

Dogs can’t clap!

Leastways, we can;

but we have to be really impressed by something,

before we do;

which doesn’t happen that often at all,

I can tell you.

When you throw a ball,

you usually throw it… in the wrong direction,

and never far enough;

you take us on boring walks,

that we’ve been on hundreds of times before,

and always leave us wanting for more;

you pull us away from interesting smells,

and the promise of a tasty morsel,

when that is what we want the most;

that or to roll in the spoor of a fox,

and to sniff the fragrant odour of a standing post –

it’s just a message from Basil or Sam;

and you cut short trips to the sea,

and prolong visits to the vets.

Dogs can’t clap;


but we can hi-five youi

and wash your face

more often than you care to.

Dogs can’t clap;

but, we can sit upon your lap,

even if we are 20kgs or more;

and a dog will never,

and often,

show you the door,

and where our leads are.

And, if you ever got things just right…

well, one paw clapping?

‘Where have all the seagulls gone?’

‘Where have all the seagulls gone?’

Where have all the seagulls gone?

I walked through the town

whilst eating my fare,

there wasn’t a single seagull there!

I sat on the beach with my cool ‘99,

the sun shone brightly,

the sand was so fine;

but, ne’er did I hear the cry of:

‘Watch out, he’ll have your food!”

No, not a seagull to be seen,

how very rude.

I wish the seagulls would return,

I wish they would dive-bomb my snack;

oh, where, where are the seagulls?

I do hope they will soon venture back.

Where have all the seagulls gone?

I have a fresh pasty, a lolly, a scone;

I need the seagulls to take their share,

or my diet is ruined beyond repair.

Oh, where have all the seagulls gone?


‘Rhymes with Rosy @LindaGHill #SoCS

‘Rhymes with Rosy’ @LindaGHill #SoCS

See here for Linda’s fine words

“Today on ‘Rhymes with Rosy’ we shall be looking at silly poems, starting off with this one:

‘The one-legged horse went ‘clip! clip! clip!,

the one-legged horse went ‘clip! clip! clip!

but, he was just being careful

not to slip, slip, slip!

on his way for his hay, to the meadow’

now wasn’t that lovely – although the poor one-legged horse was actually very lucky to be hopping to the meadow for his hay.

Next, on the show, we have a silly poem sent in by four-year old Abigail Warning, this is called ‘My Pet Rat’,

‘My pet rat

sat on the mat

chewing a carrot one day;

then he ran away.’

Oh, dear! That wasn’t a silly poem, but a rather sad one – we hope that your rat returns soon, Abigail.

Next, to finish, a poem, by me, called ‘Rhymes With Rosy’,

here it is:

‘Nothing rhymes with Rosy,

which is strange

because I thought Rosy

rhymed with something.’

Goodbye, until next time.




I am inept.

Correct me if you think I’m wrong;

deflect me with a charming song,

which I can sing along


Do, so, if you wish,

and place me, a mere morsel,

upon a silver dish.