To Let

Why does no–one else complain?
They’ve moved the public loos again.
Why is it I’m arrested
when I ensure these things are tested?

“This be no bog”, the coppers cry;
“Then what’s that sign, up there,” I sigh,
“and since you’re here please tell me why
they never print the letter ‘I’?”






this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978–2024 dylan harris   some rights reserved