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'North' poems

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My poem (well, stolen from someone else) about jellyfish -


I don't like jellyfish

They're not a fish, they're just a blob

They don't have eyes, fins or scales

Like a cod

They float around blind

Stinging people in the seas

And no-one eats jellyfish with chips and mushy peas

Get rid of 'em

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Ok then... here's a tedious piece of doggerel that I scratched together in a few spare minutes last night, on the subject of 'North'. I drifted off-topic a bit (as appears to be my modus operandi) :



It's grim up north, or so they say,

for what it's worth, I disagree.

Bad weather? Yes, I will admit,

the summer can be somewhat turd.

But we have things to compensate

for summer sunshine, often late:


Dramatic seas and wildlife

A bracing breeze and starry nights

Open spaces, rolling hills...

Hang on...scratch that, add windmills.


It seems that things wont be so neat

once Viking power finds its feet

For soon the views we so admire

will be obscured by bits of wire;

Looming, metal, robotic trees

spinning in the freezy breeze.


A source of wealth for Shetland's shore

But scenery?

Quoth the council, "Nevermore".


(with apologies to Theodore Geisel and EAP)

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