Misused, good old Robert Browning,

I had long forgotten his Pippa Passes

and this charming year of spring

as the cowl and the twat fight over centuries

old words before vulgar Americanism

gave rise to the populist non thinker

and easily offended.

 

Good ol’ Robert Browning, nobody

would dare call him a twit

except some repeated self serving survivor,

the Gobermouch, the misused Nun

who used to bellow my breath away

but now I see for the fool

and has no use for the jammiest bits of jam.

 

Dear chum Robert,

you could make a stuffed bird laugh

mistaking Nun’s clothes with a twat,

were you poked up and choked

in later life,

don’t feel the red face now,

for whilst I am a Gal sneaker

I impose my opinion on no one;

Dear Mr. Browning, Sir,

your words I defend

on my own page.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017