Poultry
I think it would be pleasant
To invite you round my house
And dine on roasted pheasant
Or a freshly shot up grouse.
A partridge cooked with tarragon,
Or aromatic duck,
Or maybe quails or ptarmigan
If we could have such luck.
If not I thought that maybe
If the birds are now in season
A nicely plumped up capercaillie
Would be within reason
I’d also like to eat a swan
That’s cooked in its own juice
With lots of gravy poured upon,
But I don’t want a goose.
Poetry
- A Poet’s Life
- Star Trek
- A Postcard From Cairo
- Waldrapp Ibis
- A Postcard From Paris
- Washing Up In The Nude
- A Song In My Heart
- We Are All Tubes
- Auntie Brenda’s Pheasant
- Bachelor Gay
- Beansprouts
- Being Smelly
- Bike
- Bog Troll
- Bollocks
- Boris Et Al
- When
- Born To Be A Cunt
- Brian Is A Cunt
- Bum Cracks
- Chairs
- Chips
- Come To Grimsby
- Crustylingus
- Die Like Elvis
- Dining At The Y
- Zafira
- Finger On The Button
- Fuck
- GDPR
- Go East Young Man
- Goose
- Printer Friendly Version
- Great Fat Hairy Arseholes
- Grimsby Fair
- Safe Word
- I Walked On Golden Sandwiches
- Shiter’s Block
- I Walked On My Own Feet A Bit
- I Want A Wee Wee
- If I Were
- Ill Ness
- In The Park
- JFK
- Kelp
- Let’s Swap Snot
- Look At Me I’m Wonderful
- My Old Man’s A Dustman
- National Curry Day
- National Poetry Day
- Nob Gags
- Ode To My Stapler
- Ode To O
- Owed To Ayrton
- Pervert
- Poultry
- Theme For An Imaginary Soap
- Thank Friday It’s Curry Day
- The Breakfast Song
- Underwear
- The Glisten On The Aubergine
- The Shits
- The Secret Life Of The Wheat Crunchie