There was once an old man named Lee
Who was usually caught drinking a tea,
Each night he would sit upon the rocks
Playing around with his golden locks.
One night I felt drawn to his sound
It came travelling over a mound,
So I swam through the sea to join him;
A good thing since it made me trim.
Anyway, as I clambered over the rock
I suddenly had to breathe and dock,
What I found was a man of about thirty
Who’s clothes were very very dirty.
And although he was playing the flute
With a jumper that was awfully cute,
His eyes were streaming down tears
As if they were from many years of fears.
So I decided to join him for a while
Hoping he’d come up with a good-natured smile,
Instead he shrugged and abruptly said..
‘My love for Den is still not dead.’
I couldn’t understand what that meant
If anything it left me with a terrible dent,
But I didn’t need to ask him why
His heart briskly said…. ‘Testify.‘
‘She married my neighbours best friend
Sadly our energies didn’t at all blend,
Because I was born and bread a coward
While she was a girl who’d openly flowered.’
I felt his words were terribly shocking
As if his fate was disdainfully mocking,
Because if one had such a beautiful obsession
Wouldn’t one want to make an enormous confession?