Calavera for Mike
It wasn’t punches, or the kicks,
that gave our Mike his final fix,
no that young lad was made of bricks,
his gut was what enthralled medics.
The victim’s end was plain to see,
he didn’t drown, or fall harshly,
“poor Michael died from too much tea”,
reports the colonoscopy.
So if you kneel upon his grave,
and place a tribute to the brave,
your pounds and pennies you can save,
if this advice, you do not waive:
Take not carnations, or tulips,
mournful poems, nor ribbon strips,
in death, as life, to grace his lips,
just take a bag of PG Tips.
The One That Got Away
Fried potato baited
crab of Southend shore,
chip in claw,
Red sauce marinated
vessel diving deep,
white crustacean riding,
hear him roar:
youth who dare not sleep.
We count no sheep.
late to doze,
never find us early rose.
Trolls of twilight
we fall down comatose.