I want to be a hobo and live by the sea

I want to be a hobo,

and live by the sea,

My friend Kenneth,

says he will come live with me

 

We shall be philosiphers,

I shall stroke my metaphorical beard.

We shall learn to spell “philosophers”

It might take us a year

 

We’ll sit on a rock

and stare at the sky

We’d wave to the fishermen

when the tide is nigh’

 

We’ll build a hut,

made out of trees

I’ll bring a typewriter

It’ll rest on my knees

 

I’ll write children’s stories

maybe some adult

I’ll be like Roald Dahl

But I’ll have my doubts

 

Will I be published?

Shall I fly to New York?

Or maybe I’ll be established,

at the other side of York …

 

I love the Potato Peel Pie Society

it speaks to me! It’s diction!

I am like the characters

idealized writers in fiction

 

I shall not think too much now,

dreaming is bad,

especially living here

it sometimes makes me sad

 

I can’t complain about my land,

because I love this place,

but I’ll blast politicians

cause I hate their face.

 

I will be a hobo

and live by the sea

I will wave at the waves

and they will wave back at me

 

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