Oh,dear… what can the matter be
i’ve not written a sonnet since Saturday
Oh,dear,what a calamity
My head was set up in the air.
I promised to write a poem or a melody.
I promised I’d help Gray to rewrite his elegy.
I promised my lover some energy.
My head has flown off and it’s where?
Oh,dear,my home’s not in Battersea.
I fear my home looks real slatternly.
Oh,dear,my knitting is patternly.
My head’s like a Viking’s,so there.
I promised to write a note late last Saturday
I said I’d pay you a salary.
I promised to paint you a gallery.
My eyes have got stuck,so I glare.
I like antiques from Abbleby
I like a sinner with dignity.
I once ate half of a dictionary.
That’s why my cupboard’s not bare