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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Poor Blue. Written about a visit to the butchers with my mum, in Liverpool, when I was a child Poor Blue To butchers I went With mother to spend Some money on meat for the week For two days a week My mother cooked meat, Boiled tatties, with carrots and peas This did coincide With baths as child As meat and a bath were a treat But not just for me As brother you see Shared both on the same day each week But back to the tale Of butcher regale With mother and me lined in queue In front of us stood A man and his dog A long haired Alsatian named Blue From nowhere a smell Invaded the shell Inside of the small butchery In nostril it crept As tear drops I wept And nausea overcame me My mother said loud “Dogs shunt be allowed, In places where foods on display” Blue looked at my mum And though it were dumb It’s eyes displayed hurt and dismay The butcher stared down Addressing the hound, Said, “you and your master must go. Please turn about face And leave from this place Dog farting is such a no no” Both bloke and the dog Departed the shop And left with their tales between legs When I looked at mum She whispered “keep schtum” For from her came’t smell of bad eggs For months after that When we shared a bath Both brother and me made a joke We’d fart in the bath Make bubbles and laugh At mother, Poor Blue and the bloke N.L.G
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