A piece that’s been in my W.I.P. folder for ages; and could still be improved. But I thought it might benefit from an outing. As for the jester, please insert your own name, and aren’t we spoiled for choice!
It now became the age of iron,
when the jester became the king,
and we sold the farm for fool’s gold.
When the hurdy-gurdy man got paid,
to sing a song without a rhyme,
while we threw away the fruit,
and instead preferred the rind.
As for the nation – well, ducky,
never mind; we’ll soon be bold,
reclaiming what was ours by right:
recouping our lost fortunes of old.
But then we’ll find– that the clock lied,
and the calendar went out with the tide.
So, God help us – its time to move on;
for better or worse – its 2021.
D G Moody