The exercise:
Today's starter, for no particular reason, is: the milkman.
Mine:
He was the famous milkman,
The Creamy King of Cheyenne.
You'd always hear him coming,
Since he couldn't stop humming
When he drove his white milk van.
His fingers always drumming,
His manner unbecoming,
While staring at poor Diane.
Ask about his wife Suzanne -
No answer was forthcoming.
The day his dear Diane ran,
Was when the killing began.
2 comments:
Milk vans here in the UK are all electric, so we'd not hear the milkman humming over the humming of his milk float!
Poor Diane though, I wonder if she ran because she knew what would happen?
Great little poem Marc :)
the Milkman
Your milk so bitter
No human kindness in it
I'll take cream instead
I leave before you
You deliver while I'm out
You sleep with my wife
I poison your milk
You are arrested and hurt
Justice is served
Ah, the milkman - forever chasing the housewives, forever getting caught.
When will they ever learn?
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