A happy new year for 2019 to whomever dips into my Daiku. My muse is, I suspect, held up in the Christmas backlog. Or perhaps I've not felt any inspiration to write since my mother passed away. Certainly not in strict accordance to the rules of writing Clerihews, haiku or senryu.
But I thought I'd share this piece of post-seasonal doggerel with you, which resulted from a twitter exchange over Failing Grayling's decision to award a ferry contract to a startup company with minimal assets and no actual ships, in hasty preparation for a 'no deal' brexit in March.
Apropos of nothing, the Year of the Pig begins in February...
I saw no ships come sailing in On Brexit Day, on Brexit Day; Seaborne Freight were late. 'We'd heard, we beg your pardon, There're ferries at the bottom of the garden.' But none could be found; At least none copper-bottomed and sound.
