Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

  Jen is a lion tamer, Or to be more accurate, she used to be. Or to be even more accurate she was a lion whisperer. No need for compulsion with Jen. She’d talk them into doing the necessary, Like roar, or jump onto a lion-stand (or whatever they’re called). The circusgoers loved it and called out for more. Jen did it for years, until one of the lions whispered back And told her they weren’t right keen on this performing lark and how about getting back to their homeland? She packed it all in the next day and went on safari with the lions, Back to their homeland.   Reg is a scrap merchant, Or to be more accurate, he’s now a materials recycler. No greenwashing for him, He does it all by the green book. His yard is too big to be called a yard. He calls it his operational zone. Likes his words, does Reg. Big heaps of ferrous metal And one of them magnet things, To attract the genuine article. Lots of non-ferrous as well, An equal oppor...

Country pub, left in a daze (Well, it was my holidays) I see a bus stop in the distance And ask a local for assistance. “How long until the bus to Bothways? I don’t mind if I go the longways, But please don’t point me wrongways. And does the bus return on Sundays?” The farmer looked me up and down As if I were a circus clown. “I wouldn’t journey there on Sundays, (Unless you want to come back Mondays) You’re facing backwards, anyways The bus goes southerly to Bothways. And more, you can’t go dressed like that In fancy spats and silk cravat. And if you see a Bothways cat Be sure to doff your trilby hat.” I scratched my chin in some confusion (It may have been the beer infusion) Looked up and down the leafy lane And climbed aboard when green bus came. I fell into a summer slumber Until…  a hand upon my shoulder. “Tickets please! What destination?” I felt for change with hesitation. “Return to…  Bothways, if you be kind. ...