David Yates
Roadsweeper
Down the dark path I walk to you
Tired feet moving step by step
Each one closer to five o'clock
Like an old man near to rest.
As in a dream you watch
And the pain breaks my heart
Tearing my soul apart.
My Darling Angel
I'm not being funny
But try not to worry
About Christmas or money.
Lines Written on the Subject of Bread
Upper crust woman
Gets a cob on,
Leaves her cheating loaf of a husband
Moves into the cottage in the garden
Has a slice of luck
Finds dough in the cupboard
Puts the bread in her own account
Rises up beautifully
Then sinks in the middle
Realises bloomer made
Says "Oh crumbs,
Bun in the oven."