Poets On Holiday
Where the beach meets the sea,
And the family tree,
Gets a little bit wet about the roots,
The poets skip round,
And lie on the ground,
Spoiling their sensible suits.
Where the pierhead flag,
Is beginning to drag,
And winter is coming to town,
The poets in flats,
Sit huddled with cats,
Their jaws going up and down.
Where the old Channel ferry,
In shades of white and cherry,
And its funnels in a dirty coloured green,
Comes sailing into port,
With the rations running short.
And the poets on the decks,
With the lifebelts round their necks,
Moaning about facilities,
There's no paper in the utilities,
While the meat was under-cooked,
And the cabins over-booked,
And generally making a bloody nuisance of themselves.
Poets being just a bloody nuisance.
Then it's time to set sail on your own,
Go forth,
Strike out,
And so on.
ТЕЛЕГРАМКанал с обзорами, анонсами новинок и книжными подборками
Книжный Вестник
Бот для удобного поиска и скачивания книг
Книжный Бот
Свежие любовные романы в удобных форматах
Любовные романы
О психологии, саморазвитии и личностном росте
Саморазвитие
Детективы и триллеры, все новинки
Детективы
Фантастика и фэнтези, все новинки
Фантастика
ВКОНТАКТЕ