That's it, Dick. The song is a crossover between obscurantism and cleverdickery in m'humble...

I don't care too much for poetry in general (especially when it's read by poets in their obligatory mournful monotone - leave it on the bloody page!). We were Wordsworthed to death at school, and the relentless introspection in his big jobs just did me brain in, which I'm sure colours my present attitude. To me (unsupportable opinion coming up...), a good poem, or a line in a poem, that sparks something off in my brain, gives me a "why didn't I think of it that way" moment, articulates a delicious thought I could never have come up with myself, hits the nail on the head, poignantly strikes a sudden emotional blow, or simply provides a lovely and lyrical juxtaposing of words, is what I call poetry. I don't want to hear strain or dogged, relentless forcing. And call me flippant and superficial, but, to me, John Betjeman and Pam Ayres have it in spades...

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn...