(PL14 3LP)
Our postcode ties us to Plymouth,
though we are firmly in CornwalL;
in wonderful Merrymeet
near to Fer Liskeryss town.
“Free the Cornish!”, “This isn’t England!””
Narrow Lanes and trees on hedgerows;
a Proud people, living fields of glory.
Oh! Type O?
Is that normal;
I don’t mean to be formal;
but, is that alright?
It’s still red? Isn’t it?
It doesn’t glow at night,
or cause my brain to fluctuate
at an unnecessary rate
Oh? Type O!
Obvious, really.
Type Obvious, I am.
Oh, Typo,
I see you knot
and yet I know
that another will.
Oh, Typo,
alter my wurds
and change my jist
to something else.
Oh, Typo,
not a Typin –
a pin for ties –
unless you are from a Typin era.
Oh, Typo,
my editor has Fitz
when you she espies,
she has another size.
Oh, Tea!
I was informed
(and not by me)
that I haven’t done an Ode to Tea!
The reason, in all simplicity,
is Tea
has not done one
for me.
Wish Ewe Were Here!
Ode to the Letter Ewe
I owe you, Ewe
For all the sheepish looks;
For being able to count on Ewe;
And for Ewe not pulling the wool over my eyes.
I should make this a Ewelogy to Ewe
And not lambast Ewe
As I ram wont to do.
But, I won’t mint sauce my words
I shall put my poetry helmutt on
And opine upon the ovine in Ewe!
So, I say to you, Ewe,
“Your words have helped me rhyme
Time upon time
Ewe have flocked to my aid
When I needed a sheep pen
To write with
And an inkwell to sheep dip
That pen into.
Ewe!
I owe Ewe.
Thank Ewe.
Old Telephone (in case you are unsure)
Ode to my old Area Telephone Code
Oh!
One seven oh three
When did you leave me?
You were here
For many a year
And now you’ve been gone
For many more
Oh!
One seven oh three
Your replacement seems much less
Though its numbers number more
Oh!
Two three eight
Oh!
Oh!
Southampton Code
Why did you have to go?
Posted in Numbers, Ode, poem, Poetry, Southampton, STD Code, Telephone
Tagged #numbers, #ode, #STDCode, #telephone, Poem, Poetry, Southampton
Oh, Ode
How much is owed
By me to you
In debt I am, to the tune of…
Ode to Joy by Schiller
Who wrote the poem
And Beethoven owed
The music to that poem
Oh, Ode
If I should die, Ode
Before I can repay what is owed
To you
May I implode
From a man a la mode
To a lowly, ugly toad
Oh, Ode
I pray
That I pay back
Before I explode
One day
Upon the open road
Oh, Ode, hear me
If I should still be in your debt
When my body begins to corrode.
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