Another of John's poems, and his explanatory note. He's got a thing about Anchor butter, which I love but am not allowed to buy. Goodness knows what flavour he picks up. By the way, no offence to any New Zealander I hope!
The very likeable tea lady of advanced years who used to bring me my lunch when I was in the office had a nice sense of humour and I don’t think she minded my plea about my pet hate – Anchor Butter.
by Roland Butter, pp John Humphreys
Please pardon a humble suggestion
Which I hope will be read without rancour:
For the sake of my ageing digestion
Could our butter be other than “Anchor”?
I’m not for a moment ungrateful;
You’ve served up whatever I’ve fancied –
With goodies galore by the plateful,
Yet with butter that always seems rancid.
Your bananas are curved to perfection,
The Ryvita a crisp golden-brown,
I’m thrilled with the sild and the salads you build
- And your tongue is the talk of the town!
So don’t think me churlish, I pray,
Nor raise an indignant commotion;
But the place for an Anchor, I’d say,
Is deep in the bed of an ocean.
Photo Finish -
From Lonicera's archives
The Sheep Farmer
The Goat Farmer
The Ruler of the Roost
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