There is dark
There is light
The custodian’s arse
Is rather tight
It is stark
It is might
The earl so sparse
He lacked insight
The morning lark
Was in plain sight
Oystercatchers depart
With little flight
From Orkney to Sark
With emotional fright
The mind’s eye starts
With unusual plight
That day in the park
Riding the village bike
Following those carts
Flying your new-found kite
