Category: rhyme

Decimulled

AOL You've Got Mail Voice Man Is an Uber Driver

I have a friend, Mr Dearden

Statistics say he’s one in ten

Who lives at Number 2-2-3

Look for the house that has a tree.

His job is fixing old machines

Throughout the night, by any means

Days off, he reconditions cars

And meets his mates in select bars.

Devoted uncle, brother, son

He always calls before I’ve rung

To wish me all the very best

Before our family’s even dressed.

We’ve different circles, different pasts

And yet this quaint connection lasts

For out of nowhere he’ll appear

If only once or twice a year.

As for this figure: one in ten

I’ll need to look at it again

For should I know one million men

I could not meet as dear a friend

Stone Pillow

On her rounds every night

She’s a curious sight

With her trolley and crushed velvet hat.

As she shuffles in shoes

Lined with yesterday’s news

Through the town like a wayfaring cat.

Where are you from, Crazy Annie?

What have you done, Crazy Annie?

Now and then she will stop

To peer into a shop

At a world where it never grows cold.

Where the ladies dress up

And take tea in a cup

Framed in windows of crimson and gold.

What don’t they know, Crazy Annie?

How is it so, Crazy Annie?

They shared kids, a nice home

Worked themselves to the bone

‘Til he left without saying a word.

As she started to sink

So she started to drink

After that everything becomes blurred.

Have you no friends, Crazy Annie?

Where will it end, Crazy Annie?

At the end of her walk

Near a derelict block

Out of sight, she beds down on the floor.

And should anyone ask

It’s hot soup in the flask

Which she’d share, if she only had more.

Try not to cry, Crazy Annie

As we pass by, Dearest Annie