If I haven’t got
a poem
upon the subject in hand,
I hope you’ll understand
if I give you a poem
upon an entirely differing subject altogether.
.
Rather than tails of black cats,
chasing butterflies, bees, and belfry bats,
my poem could be about the presence of ghosts,
the absence of Dodos,
or the burnings of toasts
that I had known.
But, you can be sure,
that the poem’s mine own,
for whom so else
would write such tosh?
It has to be me,
with my pigs will slosh.
