Another verse from my extensive "Salisbury tales" series.
Castle of Corfu...
Is just a clue...
To how King Arthur made glue...
Giving him blood of blue...
Is so true to the few.
Old Harry is cock of the north...
As Monsieur Hewitt...
Blew it...
From St Aldhelm's head...
Just you get you into bed...
With the living dead.
John Wesley...
Gives sermons like Elvis Presley...
Upon the mounts of Heaven.
Is just as good...
For the boys from the hood...
Thieves and vagabonds...
Knocking upon my door...
While the Kings Stag...
Plays in drag...
Upon my floors...
Singing songs from the Doors...
Constable is responsible...
For the paints of saints.
While the Blue Bowl...
Is a highwayman's drinking hole...
For all those red faced girls...
Dancing around a slippery Maypole...
William Grace...
Had such pace...
To play cricket in this place.
While Richard Bryant...
Of the Cock road gang...
Had a cunning plan...
To heave Hanham Pounds...
Deep into the ground.
Puffing steam...
Is a such cosmic dream...
For all those...
Whistle blowing flagman of Bitton railways.
As it chugs along...
Like a slug...
On the narrow straight-away...
Just like Syston Court...
Loves Barrs Court...
For eating spit roast pork...
With a blunt fork.
King Lear...
Does appear to have a father...
Who swam with the sweaty swine...
In juicy brine...
While farting...
In the hot springs of Bath.
As the Roman Caesars...
Will want to squeeze you...
Into a statue of gleaming gold...
What a sight to behold...
