7 March 2024
By Philip Kuepper
And here I thought the British
might find it amusing.
I grew bored in London.
(Please, don’t tell Dr. Johnson.)
And to mix things up, a little,
I plucked Big Ben from where it stood,
having decided to use it as a pen
to compose a sonnet.
(It is the land of Shakespeare
and Chaucer, after all.)
And what better use of time
than to compose a sonnet.
But, no, the London police
were not amused,
which is why I am writing this
from behind bars.
Not at all bad a cell, actually,
nicely padded. And they offered me tea.
Which I accepted. Crumpet?
Why, yes. May I take two?
But where the clotted cream?
This request was met with a frown.
I had overstepped the boundary
of their accommodation.
But back to my use of
Big Ben as my pen.
Now, I couldn’t have used up that much
of the ink of time.
The Bobbies were on me like lightning.
(Please note, those nightsticks sting!)
So, then, what to do
about replacing the time used?
Replacing time? Why, replacing time is…
But the Bobbies were not about
to listen to my reasoning.
So, I’m doing time,
at His Majesty’s invitation,
which I thought awfully kind.
I’d never received a royal invitation before.
And it hasn’t been at all bad
doing time. I seem to have become
the darling of every analyst in England,
not to say that of the press.
Though I must admit,
when it came time to dine,
I did wonder over being offered
spotted dick.
(3 March 2024)