Two days in Dublin: Guinness, fish and gin.
(Delightful company I found therein).
Less than a week on rocky Croat coast
where my ex-wife was not the greatest host;
her face and voice were sour, her thighs were fat
and very soon I’d had enough of that.
Then back to Reading, bread and water diet,
to lose the weight I’d gained in Qatar’s heat.
And soon to China, the Mongolian skies
where an industrialist’s sweet daughter sighs:
'Don’t work a year', she says to me, 'instead
write poems, satisfy me well in bed.'
An offer I’d be foolish to refuse -
so to the East I go: fulfilling Muse!