As England, like Napoleon before
Capitulate in Moscow, on the field
Of football, thankfully, and not of war
I type this, feeling that their fate is sealed
I can't wait, you see. I've not even mealed!
But the thing is, I'm going out tonight
To Stubbing Wharf in Hebden. I've appealed
To your sympathy for this hurried write
I hope you grant it, for I'm in a plight
It's poetry night behind the old pub door
The ghosts of Hughes and Plath barely concealed
In listeners' and readers' shared excite
Ment. I also need to get a mirror
For my car, and cash. All will be revealed...
Wed 17 Oct 07
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