You lot don't know it
but I am a poet

Yes really!

As well as being a geneticist, astro-engineer, cyberneticist, neurostructuralist and moral theologian, I am a poet, published on countless worlds througout Time and Space. Under another name, of course.

Here is one of my latest works!

Enjoy, friends!

Scream For Your Sausage

Scream for your sausage!
Cry for your pie!
Fight for your Scotch egg!
Be quite prepared to die.

Stock up your larder
With wares of all kinds,
Save your left-overs -
Your crusts and your rinds,

For Ivor is coming,
That fat Northern beast -
Ivor is coming!
And he wants a Feast.

He wants twenty chickens
Roasted on racks,
With sizzling bacon
Hot on their backs.

He wants a fresh piglet
Gutted and jointed,
With exotic oils
Its pert rump anointed.

He wants a whole herd
- This beggars belief –
Of heifers called Kevin
Turned into beef!

He wants a Scotch egg
The size of the moon!
He wants twenty of them -
And NOW, not ‘soon’!

He wants your bathtubs
Brimming with beer
(There won’t be room
For baby, I fear).

He wants all the cheeses
Ever devised
Gathered before his
Bulging blue eyes.

He wants tubs of lard
Paraded at dawn
By fit Northern lasses
With buttocks of brawn.

He wants... too much,
I hear you all cry -
Tough luck, you bastards,
He’s that kind of guy.

So scream for your sausage -
It won’t do no good,
Because hungry Ivor
Wants ALL YOUR FOOD.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Thu 24 Apr 2014, 0:07, 4 replies)

Ooh, very nice.
Please say more about the oily rump next time.
( the prick of misery pierced my foot on a spiiiike on, Thu 24 Apr 2014, 3:14, closed)

best so far this week - you deserve a click and when I have the strength to direct the mouse
control to "like this" I will click.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Thu 24 Apr 2014, 8:53, closed)

I quite enjoyed this,
in a genteel way.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 24 Apr 2014, 12:57, closed)