Home 9 Poems 9 SIR JOHN


Age of hour glass
trickle through
The lifetime hole
as we all do.

Fill your glass
and down your sorrows
Drink for mirth
and strain tomorrow.

Kick the dog
and watch him reel
Slap the waitress
then try to feel.

Role the chairs
stoke the fire
Drink some more
bring out the lyre.

Greet the friends
who late your ‘vite
With boastful chorus
upon their sight.

Fill the glass
and turn the pig
Jump the table
perform a jog.

Call the waitress
attention for
Across the hearth,
twas what was for.

Down the hose
and up the frock
Tried his damnedest
just could not.

Straight his shift
and restored his pride
By saying that
I’ll not confide.

Facing friends
who boasted so
Of prowess so that
blow by blow.

They stumble round
and hit the stone
Snoring loudly
no change in tone.

The keeper makes
no sound, for fear
The rogues
should defy the beer.

Out the candles
climb the stairs
And leave the lions
to their lairs.

Awakened in the morn’
by hooves
That echo over
yard and rooves

Our travellers leave
the evening last
With gut-ache
and more ballast

Where to? And whom?
I do not know
These highwaymen
who last night lay low

Who are these lazy, joyful men?
who’d accompany this man who’d fain
Death, than to gallant fight
addressed ‘Sir John’ was here last night.

(Homework submitted to my inspirational English teacher after studying Henry IV -part 2 (Falstaff). Errr?