A brief Pageant of English Verse
I won’t arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
I’ll sanitise the door knob and make a cup of tea.
I won’t go down to the sea again, I won’t go out at all;
I’ll wander lonely as a cloud from the kitchen to the hall.
There’s a green eyed yellow monster to the north of Katmandu,
But I shan’t be seeing him just yet and nor, I think will you.
While the dawn comes up like thunder on the road to Mandalay,
I’ll make my bit of supper and eat it off a tray.
I shall not speed my bonnie boat across the sea to Skye,
Or take the English rolling road from Birmingham to Rye.
About the woodland, just right now, I am not free to go,
To see the Keep Out posters or the cherry hung with snow.
And no, I won’t be travelling much, within the realms of gold,
Or get to Milford Haven. All that’s been put on hold.
Give me your hands, I shan’t request, albeit we are friends,
Or come within two yards of you, until the lockdown ends.
Thank you Sue. You have certainly given us a chuckle!
