Another tale from my extensive "Salisbury Tales" series.
The Bridge of Sighs...
Spans the river Cam...
Flowing...
Through the roman town of Granta.
Majestic Tudor gateway...
To St Johns College.
Is so polished...
By Trinity's golden gilded clock.
That loves to tick-tock...
With heart stopping...
Metallic ding-dongs...
Which makes you want to sing songs...
In your see-through stringy thongs.
Mulberries...
Are planted deep...
Into the Fellows flowery gardens.
As John Milton...
Gives loads of leaves...
To his ravenous silk beans...
Isaac Newton...
Worked on his laws of motion...
While observing free-falling apples...
Upon his head...
Which put him into bed...
With a sore head.
Charles Darwin...
Played with the origin of the species...
As he needed...
Hot granary bread in his shed.
Tennyson...
Illuminated his manuscripts from the hip...
Is so slick...
Thomas Grey...
Loved to play chess...
In Peter's House...
Built by the Bishop Of Ely with the big belly...
Was told off...
For his dodgy spelling....
Is so compelling.
If it is English fine paintings by Turner & Gainsborough...
Give you the urge...
To paint like saints...
Don't leave it to late...
As the master masons...
Will brick you into heavens gates...
Just in time for the summers fete...
Splendid Botanical gardens...
Cover this most majestic...
Ancient Cambridge city...
So be glad...
That you are a happy hippie...
And not a high-flyer city slicker...
In fluffy designer slippers.
