by Nick Gisburne
All is calm as I wait for the sun
In the stillness I steady the gun
I see death in his eyes
But no hint of surprise
For he knows now what has to be done
We are stirring the cauldron of grief
For the infamous Liar-in-Chief
There is nothing inside
Only smiles when he died
And for most there is welcome relief
I have nothing to pay for a meal
Should I beg, perhaps borrow, or steal?
I have one other skill
I’ve decided to kill
It’s a little like clubbing a seal
Scrolls and parchments, strange, alien skin
Tattered bundles, but where to begin?
What strange secrets hide here?
Ancient, festering fear
Are there answers, or madness, within?
From the depths of a fathomless pool
Swarms a legion, accursed and cruel
Are they beasts of the night
Born to butcher and bite
Or the quiet ones bullied at school?
There are days he will never reclaim
He forgets, but has no one to blame
But the treasure, the prize
Is the light in his eyes
When he smiles and remembers your name
I have twenty Bavarian nieces
And the buggers all bore me to pieces
I will cut out their souls
Plant a bomb in the holes
And just hope their banality ceases
When her shadow fell into the water
A bespectacled navy man caught her
He returned it at speed
But he bungled the deed
It belonged to the dog of his daughter
Though I may not be handsome or rich
I was charmed by a beautiful witch
We were out on a date
And the dinner was great
But I woke as a frog, in a ditch
For a hundred and ninety-nine years
I have saved the most precious of beers
It was ready to drink
But it fell in the sink
All I have is a gallon of tears
