rhymin’

Cathedral Cowboy

His belly is a hangin’ judge
judgin’ by the buckle on his belt
his tight blue jeans have ridden a range
of miles his backside felt.

But now he leans a smoulderin’
against cathedral walls
waitin’ on that last big roundup
the heaven sent cattle calls.

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Spectacles (A One Minute Rhyme)

these glasses do not favour me
you couldn’t say they’re cool
they’re too big for my little head
and make me look a tool

but if I didn’t wear them
I couldn’t read or write
so I guess that I’m stuck with them
though I look a proper sight

even with them on my face
I bump my head a lot
so I really must be careful
it’s the only head I’ve got

I’ll live with the fact they’re rather sad
and just a fashion folly
they don’t make me look like Richard Gere
just a grey haired Buddy Holly