For my late father
When I was four
On Morecambe shore,
My father,
Stained in Dunkirk blood
Became Robin Hood,
He stepped fore
On two legs,
Volunteered to try his hand
At a game on the bandstand,
Used his one good limb
To drop some pegs
Into a jam jar,
While mother shouted, 'Come on, Jim'.
I saw from afar
He'd won me a car,
What a star.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 487 times
Written on 2009-06-07 at 21:10
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Some talk of Alexander
In days of yoreWhen I was four
On Morecambe shore,
My father,
Stained in Dunkirk blood
Became Robin Hood,
He stepped fore
On two legs,
Volunteered to try his hand
At a game on the bandstand,
Used his one good limb
To drop some pegs
Into a jam jar,
While mother shouted, 'Come on, Jim'.
I saw from afar
He'd won me a car,
What a star.
Chris Fernie, 2009
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 487 times
Written on 2009-06-07 at 21:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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