Is It?

MELLOW YELLOW MONDAY


IS IT?

Everything's up-to-date in Kansas City,

According to a certain well-known song.

And, if that's in a lyric from my girlhood,

I know for certain that it can't be wrong.

If you're in a party-mood in Kansas City,

And you don't know when you'll be that way again,

You can travel all night long just having high-jinks

In a yellow bus that calls itself a train.

With thirty bosom-buddies you can caper,

And drink and fool around and shout 'Yippee!'

And the neighbours can't complain because there are none,

As you don't stay long in one locality.

I'm not a party-goer, I admit it,

But there's one thing I would really like to know.........

Does the Driver shout, if things become too 'heated',

'You've gone about as fer as you can go!'

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MAN-MADE

Clouds have inspired poetry since way way back in time.

We've seen the silver citadels, as they've changed their shape, to climb

Up into the ether, rolling around on high,

Creating scenes of dazzling white on the background of the sky.

Delicate streaks, evolving whirls, little rabbits' tails of puff,

Or darkly menacing blanketings when the weather's turning rough.

Clouds have been things of mystery, sometimes with human faces;

Clouds have been things of movement, scudding and running races.

To better gaze at them on high, we lie in the summer grass,

Watching in fascination as they loom and, billowing, pass.

Now man and his little aeroplane has got in on the act,

But the patterns he's creating are dead boring, that's a fact.

His straight-lined imitations quite honestly don't rate.

The geometry may be passable but the poetry isn't great!

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