Yikes! Less than ten minutes to write my daily blog post. Last night while Hannah was shopping online and I was doing a jigsaw (also online) Bert comes barging into our private. secret sitting room to read aloud from Yeats, and then wanted to discuss poetry. Honestly! You never get a minute's peace in this house.
Still, if I've only got eight minutes it will have to be poetry. It's the only thing I can dash off.
Here goes,
There was a wee doggy called Ziggy
Who grew most tremendously Biggy
No more does he Fly
You might well ask Why?
It's because he did scoff like a Piggy.
2 comments:
That is the most wonderful image of the happy wee fella, and your poetry is sublime.
Thank you, Andrea, you are too kind, really too kind. The poetry is DOGgerel.
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