Poetry

WALLACE ON DEATH ROW

By 7th July 2007December 9th, 2019No Comments

There’s a famous place called Blackpool
That’s noted for fresh air and fun
However I’m waiting on death row
For I’m to be shot with a gun.

A Lancashire lad called Albert
Stuck a walking stick into my ear,
I asked him politely to stop it
And go for a walk on the pier.

But Albert being a Ramsbottom
He took no notice of me,
Still poking with his ‘orse’s ‘ead ‘andle
Saying, “Oi, I’m talking to thee.”

I will not let him annoy me
For I’m starting my yoga trance,
I’m oh so calm with my karma
I know that he hasn’t a chance.

Now the wife, she’s getting angry
And building up quite a rage.
Reaching out with her claws
She drags Albert into her cage.

Now that my yoga is over
I’m back in my cage all-alone,
I open my eyes and I’m shocked,
To see a blooded cap and a bone.

I got the blame for eating Albert
Though the wife she cooked up the plan
I know, I couldn’t have ate Albert
For I’m a vegetarian.

John A Silkstone

Author John A Silkstone

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