Too Many Rimes

In cosy Quantock cottage

You’d hear from time to time

Mrs Coleridge say to Sam

“Oh, not another rime.”

You go off with that Wordsworth

And roam about the hills

Walk on nights all frosty

And end up with the chills

I've heard about your mariner

And his poor albatross

I find it all quite tedious

To me it sounds like dross

In Xanadu old Kubla Khan

Might like his pleasure dome

But I’d prefer a husband

Who helped about the home

Of course, I know young Dorothy

Hears verse that makes her swoon

But this is not like Clevedon

When on our honeymoon

There’s lots and lots of poets

You’re not the only one

I can think of quite a few

As well as Tennyson.