My friend, Jane

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My friend, Jane

Hungerford lass, seventy-two,
Suffers colloquial to-do,
The issue for her was I.T.
What happened, you ask, goodness me!

Engrossed in her books, the hard drive
Of her Dell, tried to eat her, alive.
It settled for chewing her foot,
Which in plaster of Paris was put.

Her passion for theatre must wait
Now, the girl's in a sedentary state.
Before she kicks any more bytes,
We need to buy Jane some foot-lights.

Best Mates

Best Mates

The thing about dogs
is the love they engender,
you get what you see
they've no hidden agenda.

Unqualified worship,
devotion wholesale,
soulful brown eyes
and a waggy-whip tail.

No back-talking nonsense,
no falsehoods, no lies,
your four-legged pal
until one of you dies.

One small thing would make
this bond even stronger,
that's the thing about dogs;
I wish they lived longer.

Friendship

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Friendship

My imaginary friend
and I both parted, at the end
she never paid her round in bars
or took her turn at doing chores.
She put on airs and took the Mick
but what was really rather sick
and turned our friendship to a joke
was when she stole my phantom bloke.

Loss

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Loss

I lost my dear friend, Laura,
Will never see her again,
If I had gone before her,
She'd have caught the right damn train!

Best of friends

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Best of friends

Me, and a baritone gnome 
Live in our home, all alone. 
With no water, and no telephone 
We must shower using eau de cologne. 

And once all the perfume has gone, 
He will burst forth and sing me a song, 
He was taught by an ugly duck swan 
Wearing laddered red tights and a thong.
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