Hair of Amber
Falls in curls
Over golden skin
In perfect complement
Like ripened corn
In a summer field
Hair of Amber
Falls in curls
Over golden skin
In perfect complement
Like ripened corn
In a summer field
He wandered the streets
Clothed in tattered
rags
And shod in scruffy
boots
That didn’t keep out
the rain
So he turned to crime
To fill his hollow
belly
And then Victorian
justice
Friend’s first, then soul mates
Then we spoke of
matrimony
Now our souls are
intertwined
Up on the dance floor
I have two left feet
And cannot impress
The girls that I meet
As I gyrate like my shorts
Are full of live ants
But I do much better
at
The dance with no
pants
After the scandal of aid workers
And their
relationships with prostitutes
They needed to be
reminded it seems
That they were there
for the destitute
The old saying goes that “A volunteer
Is worth Ten pressed men”
Well volunteers are all well and good
But a pressed man
looks really sharp
My Great Uncle is a scientist
As well as a keen horticulturist
Which is quite evident
to see
As he’s growing a
chemistree