Said a stammering wit out at Woking,
“Though I like d-d-drinking and smoking
One thing I suppose
I like better than those
Is p-p-p-practical joking.”

Oedipus said to the Sphinx,
My name’s been perverted by shrinks.
Who’d think that Jocasta’d
Call me a bastard?
I say that psychology stinks.

As Byron remarked about Shelley,
“We all of us know very well he
Will make spousal scenes
With a girl in her teens,
But stay with her? Not on your Nellie.”

Said Pound, “If one’s writing a Canto
It should be a sort of portmanteau
Full of any old crap
That occurs to a chap
With patches of pig-esperanto.”

Said a humble young wooer of Tring,
“I’ve seen a remarkable thing:
In response to my pleas
She showed me her knees!
Who knows what tomorrow may bring?”

Dr Spooner taught literature too.
The Shaming,” he said, “of the True
Sounds fine. But the same’s 
Not true of H. James
With his dreadful The Stern of the Crew.”

Our existence would be that much grimmer
except for the solace of limericks.
A fact that’s unknown
To two lots alone;
The drearier dons and the dimmer hicks.

“A Garden of Erses” by Jeff Chaucer ($12.95) can be ordered from Orchises Press, P.O. Box 320533, Alexandria, VA 22320-4533 USA

Underrated: Abroad

The ravenous longing for the infinite possibilities of “otherwhere”

The king of cakes

"Yuletide revels were designed to see you through the dark days — and how dark they seem today"