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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: joan crawford

Title: Loneliness

On an isolated outpost in a county far away
dwelt a female who had erstwhile lived a life so bright and gay,
before she moved to Greenhills she had visitors galore
but afterwards there was noone to talk to anymore..
She did try talking to herself though it was no surprise
to find this wasted effort for she never gained replies.
Then to her rescue came a friend with many bright ideas
such plans as never were before to quell the lonely years.
She wrote to The Prime-minister and also to the Queen,
the army and the airforce and the navy and marines,
the ministries of Health & Sport and also Ag` and Fish
hoping they would condescend to gratify her wish.
After weeks of waiting `Liz` announce with jubilation
“The farm now known as Greenhills shall be granted to the nation.”
Then Sir Billy came to build a camp upon the scene
at the sight of which his rival, Pontin, turned quite green.
Fred was now determined that he wouldn`t be outdone
and came along to build another better, bigger one.
The P.M came to see the first and stated that from hence
this would be the venue for his party conference.
“You can keep your redcoats” shouted others from the right
“We`ll be backing Freddy even though he`s not a knight.”
Then the ministries stepped in, each one to stake a claim
dividing up the rest so each department got the same.
The Min` of Ag and Fish declared it was their firm intent
to use their portion of the land for germ experiment
“Not on your life”, the Min` of Health replied with indignation
then the Min` of War stepped in to ward off escalation.
The Mins` of Transport, Power and Fuel, the Min` of Education
With all the other ministries then joined the conflagration.
The army and the navy came, the royal air force flew
along with tanks and guns and planes and parachutists too.
The feudin` and the fightin` round our far-flung female friend
(for she is in the middle, upon that you can depend)
has helped to make life fuller, no time now to be forlorn
not with fifteen thousand fellers round her fence from dusk to dawn


Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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