About me

Nothing would I do
but scribble poetry-
Just took
an ink stand
in my hand
and a pen
big as ten
in the other.
And away in a Pother
I runned
To the mountains
and fountains
and ghostes
and Postes
and witches
and ditches
and wrote
in his coat
When the weather
was cool,
fear of gout
and without
when the weather
is warm
as the charm
when we choose
To follow one´s nose
To the north ,
To the north,
To follow one´s nose
To the north