Golden and Remarkable
Biscuits really aren’t what they were
Or how you remembered them being.
My melting moments
Have melted off
Gained a voice
Pretended they had a choice
And told me where to go
even though I clearly don’t know the way
to join up all the oats
now and then
on the tip of John o Groats
while you old biccie
from le family circle
perch precariously prim and dim on
IceLands Landish End
Tsk! to those middling meddling midland ones
Not quite Shrewsbury or the Lincoln…….
We know fully well that Bath is just a bun.