Jersey Poem
It’s square sausage
And egg on Portuguese,
‘Mid jammy wasps,
On ice-cream knees.
It’s cloudy crab sandwiches,
At the Paddle board meet
And coffee mugged histories,
As the mermaid’s tail beats.
It’s Squelchy field records,
By Archie and The Rondells.
Beach skimming gull-duggery
Plucky sea crabs, not many,
But I reckon
St. Catherine would…
It’s basking crickets
And random acts of dog.
At risk of surfers, curses
With beardy rocks and
Plenty of pie and Cornish.
It’s Translated books
And Indian phone tricks
With old chinas,
But not a single bit,
Washed up.
It’s a lashing down oyster,
Articulate!
Risque de chute de pierres
It’s ball chucked to the
Opening growler
With water up t’ ‘is bonce.
As the bowler
Bowls another howler,
It’s
Happy hour
in Fronce.
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