Notes About The Poem
I make no excuse,
This was written to be a song.
A bit of New Year's fun.
*
All lyrics are human and music is AI, BUT...
is guided by a belligerent human
namely, Me!
Is that why it took fifty versions to get it right???
----------------------
Listen to poem:
Six Point Three Five Kilograms
One stone… but please not one ounce more!
Just three cheese straws… or was it four
Nut-crackers made for breaking in
To hardened shells with nuts within
Candies there to tempt my eye
Selected as I wander by
Soft mint creams with chocolate skin
And one more glass of gin
What we call a stone, is, in fact, fourteen pounds
But this British measure so often confounds
About the same weight as two newborns in prams
It’s also called Six point three five kilograms
Two stone… but please not one ounce more,
Those pigs in blankets, I adore
Turkey; roast with stuffing in
Sparkling wine instead of gin
Gammon with an orange glaze
Honeyed parsnips hold my gaze
Cocktail sausage on a stick
And gravy rich and thick
What we call a stone, is, in fact, fourteen pounds
But this British measure so often confounds
About the same weight as two newborns in prams
It’s also called Six point three five kilograms
Three stone… But now it’s nearer four,
Dad, your pants don’t fit no more
Wife says, “Slice of cake for you?”
I say, “No,” but then I do
Mince pies, cake, profiteroles
Christmas pudding, sausage rolls
Custard, jelly, squirty cream
Tried the scales… but hear me scream!
…
…
What we call a stone, is, in fact, fourteen pounds
But this British measure so often confounds
About the same weight as two newborns in prams
It’s also called Six point three five kilograms
One stone, two stone, three stone…… and FOUR!
My tum’s a shadow on the floor
I was male but now not sure
For I can’t see the proof no more
But sausage rolls that went uneaten
Were never gonna see me beaten
So, it’s diet meals drunk through a straw
Like every Christmas gone before
Oh contraire… my Frigidaire
Is full of sherry trifle
I took a little peek in there
A truly festive eyeful
I’m fit to burst but I don’t care
For Christmas MUST HAVE trifle
I’ve got a bowl, I’ve got a spare
I’VE GOTTA HAVE THAT TRIFLE!
What we call a stone, is, in fact, fourteen pounds
But this British measure so often confounds
About the same weight as two newborns in prams
It’s also called Six point three five kilograms
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