Sycamore

The tree became sick
When the wind became raw.
And when snow lay thick,
It was sicker more.

Budapest Limerick Competition

There was a young woman from Budapest,
A naturist, proud when folk viewed her chest.
But on the shores of Lough Swilly,
She declared ’twas too chilly,
(As those who stroll there in the nude attest)
.
Yet another unsuccessful Drivetime competition entry - this time to compose a Limerick based on the first line above but with an Irish theme

Gamla Stan

I’ve travelled all around the globe,
New Delhi to New York.
A great long-stepping claustrophobe,
I’ve walked the rover’s walk.

But no more do I choose to roam
From Cyprus to Saigon
For I have gone and made my home
In dear old Gamla Stan.

Gamla Stan, where the haughty seagull perches.
Gamla Stan, that the Baltic breaks upon.
Gamla Stan, you have snared me,
Gamla Stan, you have spared me,
Now I’ll be yours forever, Gamla Stan.

For there I met a raven lass
With skin as fair as ice.
Her eyes laughed o’er her bubbling glass,
I gladly paid the price.

The blackened clouds soon parted
And the sun in wonder shone
When my engine was re-started
In the heart of Gamla Stan.

Gamla Stan, where the winter’s never bitter,
Gamla Stan, you will take me when I’m gone.
Gamla Stan, your meandering
And cobbled lanes still pandering
To the romance within me, Gamla Stan.

They wanted ten kronor for a wee-wee

They wanted ten kronor for a wee-wee,
A price that I declared a sin.
And so, I sipped my rum and kiwi
And tenaciously I held my wee-wee in.

There’s no way I’d give them the satisfaction
Of getting my ten kronor for a pee.
Their urinals (sad) did not see any action,
At least, not from a stingy sod like me.
.
10Kr. for a pee in Stockholm's T-Centrale station!

The classic Swedish beauty

There’s a classic Swedish beauty,
Eyes of blue and hear of blonde.
This fair damsel is a cutie
Of which many men are fond.
But in Stockholm I was taken
By another of the race
And in truth I was quite shaken
When I gazed upon her face.

Oh those black-haired girls of Sweden
Made me think that we’ve returned
To the flow’ring shrubs of Eden,
And the apple has been spurned.
They’re as black as any raven
With complexions clear and fair
And the country is a haven
For those girls with jet black hair

The Board

We sit ‘round the table, well-dressed and clean-shaven,
Discussing the business, our aims loud and craven.
The MD presents an array of large figures
And tries to suppress what the warning bell triggers.
We sit around doodling and shuffling papers,
While dreaming of sexual liaisons and capers,
Wasting long hours we can scarcely afford.
Oh, we’re the head honchos, lads,
We are the Bored.