I was brought up in south Lancashire, England (now called Merseyside), where people have a great sense of humour. Here is a poem by the Liverpool poet, Roger McGough, from the book The Mersey Sound:
At Lunchtime A Story of Love
When the busstopped suddenly to avoid damaging a mother and child in the road, the young lady in the green hat sitting opposite was thrown across me, and not being one to miss an opportunity i started to makelove with all my body.
At first she resisted saying that it was tooearly in the morning and toosoon after breakfast and that anyway she found me repulsive. But when i explained that this being a nuclearage, the world was going to end at lunchtime, she tookoff her greenhat, put her busticket in her pocket and joined in the exercise.
The buspeople, and therewere many of them, were shockedandsurprised and amused- andannoyed, but when the word got around that the world was coming to an end at lunch- time, they put their pride in their pockets with their bustickets and madelove one with the other. And even the busconductor, being over, climbed into the cab and stuck up some sort of relationship with the driver.
Thatnight, on the bus coming home, wewere all alittle embarrased, especially me and the young lady in the green hat, and we allstarted to say in different ways howhasty and foolish we had been. Butthen, always having been a bitofalad, i stood up and said what a pity that the world didn't nearly end every lunchtime and that we could always pretend. And then it happened...
Quick asa crash we all changed partners and soon the bus was aquiver with white mothballbodies doing naughty things.
And the next day And everyday In everybus In everystreet In everytown In everycountry
people pretended that the world was coming to an end at lunchtime. It still hasn't. Although in a way it has.
RE: Love Poems for all you Romantics
I was brought up in south Lancashire, England (now called Merseyside), where people have a great sense of humour. Here is a poem by the Liverpool poet, Roger McGough, from the book The Mersey Sound:At Lunchtime A Story of Love
When the busstopped suddenly to avoid
damaging a mother and child in the road, the
young lady in the green hat sitting opposite
was thrown across me, and not being one to
miss an opportunity i started to makelove
with all my body.
At first she resisted saying that it
was tooearly in the morning and toosoon
after breakfast and that anyway she found
me repulsive. But when i explained that
this being a nuclearage, the world was going
to end at lunchtime, she tookoff her
greenhat, put her busticket in her pocket
and joined in the exercise.
The buspeople, and therewere many of
them, were shockedandsurprised and amused-
andannoyed, but when the word got around
that the world was coming to an end at lunch-
time, they put their pride in their pockets
with their bustickets and madelove one with
the other. And even the busconductor, being
over, climbed into the cab and stuck up
some sort of relationship with the driver.
Thatnight, on the bus coming home,
wewere all alittle embarrased, especially me
and the young lady in the green hat, and we
allstarted to say in different ways howhasty
and foolish we had been. Butthen, always
having been a bitofalad, i stood up and
said what a pity that the world didn't nearly
end every lunchtime and that we could always
pretend. And then it happened...
Quick asa crash we all changed partners
and soon the bus was aquiver with white
mothballbodies doing naughty things.
And the next day
And everyday
In everybus
In everystreet
In everytown
In everycountry
people pretended that the world was coming
to an end at lunchtime. It still hasn't.
Although in a way it has.