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Biggus
11-19-2013, 09:24 AM
THE RED RIVER OF THE SOUTH

The Red River of the south
Gains it name
From the red-bed country
Of its watershed
Where it rises on the slopes
Of the Llano Estacado mesa
In two branches to flow east
From the Texas Panhandle
It acts as the border between
Texas and Oklahoma
Before entering Arkansas
And winds its way across
The arid lands of the Great Plains
And flows into Louisiana
Bound for the Mississippi

THE ENGLAND OF WINSTON

The England of Winston
Did it ever exist?
Those days long past
When we had our finest hour

The England of Winston
When national pride
Was not frowned upon
But openly celebrated

The England of Winston
Must be an invention
For it is so far removed
From what I see today

England without Winston
Is not pride worthy
It has no identity
And no sense of itself

RED SOX

For a Bostonian
At his pleasure
Has a particular calling
When at his leisure

And that’s at Fenway Park
Where he spends the day
With kindred spirits watching
The Red Sox play

STATE SANCTIONED ASSASSINATION

State sanctioned assassination
Of a foreign émigré
But Polonium poisoning
Seems a preposterous way
To assassinate anyone
Whatever anyone might say

SHE WAS A FORCE OF NATURE

When she was a young woman
She was a force of nature
But she is a force to be reckoned with
Now she is mature

BACK IN 1966

Back in 1966
When I was just a boy
I was full of pride
Watching Nobby’s jig of joy
And when Bobby Moore
Was raised shoulder high
Holding the World Cup
We all began to cry

RED LEATHER CHAIR

My earliest memory
Of Grandpa Henry
Is of him sat in his chair,
A red leather affair,
Reading a volume
Of prose in his room
He sat me on his knee
And then he read to me
And for an age, we pair
Sat in his red leather chair
Reading tales of daring
And in adventures sharing

IT’S NOT THE SIZE OF A MAN

It’s not the size of a man
That marks him high or low
It’s what is in their hearts
That makes them grow
Just look around you
And you will also know
That the smaller being
Can cast a giant shadow

THE WHITE HORIZONTAL PLUME

The white horizontal plume
Streams in its wake
Like a long grey ribbon
As the locomotive powers on
A truly romantic image
Of the great age of steam