I love you to bits…

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Love you to bits..

You're the flirt
in a skirt.
The snag
In our snog.

You're a nail
in my mail.
The weed
in my need.

You're the pest
in my vest.
The fly
in my eye.

You're the wart
in my court.
The itch
in my snitch.

You're the clot
That I've got.
You're the nit
in my knot...

...and I love you to bits.

Love is…

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Love is...

Putting the bins out when it's not your turn.
Apologising before you fart.
Pretending to listen when you haven't a clue what she is talking about.
Waiting until she leaves the room before picking your nose.
Letting her clean the toilet, even though you would love to do it.
Not forgetting her birthday more than once a year.
Buying her petrol station flowers for the thrill of hearing her say,"What are these for?"
Letting her watch the football, rather than a sloppy film.
Getting her a fish supper on your way home from the pub.
Sleeping fully clothed in the bath, so you don't have to wake her.

The eye of the beholder

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The eye of the beholder

A man with a shiny red tractor
Got wed to an out of work actor
Bereft of a stage
She was left with no wage
And the size of his wheels was a factor.

A Yorksher Love Sonnet

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A Yorksher Love Sonnet

My love for you, my dear, primordial
I need you as the great white needs the sea
My little cookery book, my granny's recipe
My pressure gauge, my medical annual.

You're the tiger in my tank, my animal
The sugar in my too sweet cup of tea
My fleur de lys, my chickadee, my bon amie
My swamp duck, just a tad too spherical.

You're the girl who spends my pension every week
Who looks quite nice, when age is factored in
The cheeky twinkling in the corner of my eye
Like highly polished furniture, antique
More sturdy than that wall in East Berlin
The girl who'll get my ferrets when I die.

Dauphy: Has Mrs Hobbo seen this?

Hobbo: Not yet. Why?

Dauphy: She won’t be happy!

Hobbo: Why not? There’s no mention of pies this time.

Dauphy: Don’t expect any lunch today, that’s all…

L * O * V * E

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L * O * V * E

Love is the only
four letter word that my gran
allows in her house.

Love on trial

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Love on trial

A Parisian apartment exclusive
She murders her lover abusive
True to French fashion
She pleads crime of passion
Five knives in his back inconclusive.

The Power of Thinking

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The Power of Thinking

the totality of our thoughts
is hatred
we will perish.

the product of our ponderings
is love
we shall triumph.

A Yorksher love poem

Hobbo: The French are a romantic bunch aren’t they Dauphy?

Dauphy: We are, why?

Hobbo: I thought that I’d move away from funny poems and try my hand at something a bit more romantic.

Dauphy: Mon Dieu!

Hobbo: So, I’ve written a love poem.

Dauphy: This has trouble written all over it! Let’s have a look then…

A Yorksher love poem

Tha'll get me pension, when I die
and 'tools inside me shed.
You are the gravy in me pie
the girl I chose to wed.

Tha's like the salt, I put on 'chips
The froth that warms me beer
a lass that wobbles when she strips
to who there's no compeer.

And tha's the lass what 'ad me kids
and set me 'eart a thuddin'.
As solid as two dustbin lids
the air in 'Yorksher puddin'.

Tha's the mush in mushy peas
The fluff in fluffy slippers
What taught me 'bout the birds 'n'bees
The girl that cooks me kippers.

Tha's the match what lit me fire
The stubble on me chin
Who dances like a tumble drier
The nine in feminine.

So, me love, rough as you are
'tis death will force our partin'
Tha's more use norra flashy car
Despite tha' flippin' fartin'.

Yorksher:  Yorkshire
tha'll:  you will
me:  my
tha's:  you are
compeer:  compare
'eart:  heart
Yorkshire pudding:  A savoury'pudding' eaten with roast dinners
norra:  than a

Dauphy: The mush in mushy peas!

Hobbo: I know, it’s good isn’t it?

Dauphy: Has Mrs Hobbo seen this?

Hobbo: No. Not yet.

Dauphy: Well, don’t show her it, or you’re dead!

Hobbo: Why? I thought she’d like it.

Dauphy: Where do I start?…

The art of balance

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The art of balance

Can you canoodle
carefully, in a canoe?
Can you? Cannily?

A story as old as time

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A story as old as time

In a village, quaint, touristic
Lived twin sisters, both artistic.

One was dour, pessimistic
Smaller girl was optimistic.

Came two men, materialistic
As foretold by Meg, the mystic.

Older, brash and egotistic
Younger shy, though not simplistic.

Girls were sexy, sensualistic
Stirred boys feelings, pugilistic.

Both called truce, men realistic
Let girls choose, so altruistic.

Women flattered, fatalistic
Double wedding, idealistic.

Chose a vicar, humoristic
Picked a service catechistic.

Thus my friends, in rhyme linguistic
Old, old story, humanistic.

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