YEATS-GAVE-THE-NUMBER-OF-
THE-BEAST-THE-TRULY-GOLD-BOOT
Next to Crowley in a pyramid-hat,
the poet Yeats closely sat
and gave a tired yawn
in the Temple of the Golden Dawn,
"Time to leave us Mr Beast."
It was upon hearing that
666 left. Find he went East.
THE-RUDE-MECHANIC-
WAS-BOTTOM
Ah Bottom, he of the mechanic-class,
was to amuse the Bard's fairy-queen.
Is not a bottom also an ass?
And as an ass was he not seen?
Every royal-court had its clown-fool,
ewven in a midsummer's-dream.
The mechanic was, too, his tool,
titillating Titania it would seem !
IT-IS-A-DRUNK-DIVER'S-MORNING-
AFTER-FIND
The Walking Street Blues Factory blues
after a night out on the booze?
And after a flippery diving in
(pertaining to your pink-dolphin)
with somebody soft-and-feminine
further setting your head aswim?
Then this verse-poem may not amuse !
TO-D.H.L.
Tom foolery
and Tom Thumb.
Tom tit, Tom cat
and tom-tom drum.
John Thomas
has just come.
POTTER-PLAY
Her breasts are Blue Remembered Hills.
Brimstone and Treacle leave a trail.
Bedevilled by the girl's Black Eyes
Singing Detectives are on her tail.
YES-A-LADY'S-CRUELLY-
CODED-MESSAGE
Mysterious as the Gaelic chapel,
this is what she thought he meant.
A priceless treasure it was,
the missive the girl was sent.
If only she knew in Old English
rose-lin's the spelling of horse-serpent !
BEASTLY-COLD-CAN-BE-
BRITAIN-YES
Pelican-crossings, zebra-crossings too;
you'd think that England was an open-zoo.
Especially when we're huddled-up together
in the brrrr... brass-monkey-weather !
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