The Big Book of Poems

Gossip

Shit goes round about everyone , but it seems that everyone is me. To be read in a Yorkshire accent. Preferably with a sausage roll in hand.

people want all the gossip

Even the stuff about me

People just want to gossip

They'll do it all Bart me

If I told you , what you wanted to know

Would you look at me the same ?

If I told you , everything that I know

Would you still wave and shout my name ?

I don't think I'll tell you this

I pack it behind a smile

I don't want to tell you this

Your tears will be that of a crocodile

You don't really care ,

you just want to know

With facts Bart me

People's minds you will blow

I guess I'll not tell you anything

What's the point of that ?

So I'll come here instead

And pull names , from the hat