The car goes thump-a-bump
As I shut me eye
And there goes ol Missus Golita
She always smells of apple-pie
Look a little further
Ho, 'tis that monkey of a lad
Truanting off from school he be
Aye, will end up something bad
And who goes in that hansom cab
All clip-clop and shutters drawn
Would that be the military gent
His wife left him, they say, 'is heart is torn
O there comes the postman
Rat-a-tat he sharply knocks
Telegrams are the worst of all
A gentle man, he'd rather be darning socks
Ump! There is a terrible bump
And my brain jumps inside my head
My mum she turns and says to me
What were you dreaming about Fred?
Beautiful and archaic! nice!
ReplyDeleteSmells of London. Iz ozzum, I can likez!
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteNice!
ReplyDeleteAnd, yes, it has that old British flavour. Can we expect more? :)