Putting On The Posh
Poems
Posh Pants
I thought a sonnet needs a bit of
work,
Something to make it feel a bit less stuffy,
But
this thought doesn’t have much of a perk,
Unless I make it sound
nice and fluffy,
So here’s a sonnet about some posh pants,
The ones you wear when going somewhere posh,
Not a place where
there’s singing and rants,
A place where you have very pleasant
nosh,
Oh, and I am talking about underpants,
Not those
trousers with creases down the leg,
Not those you wear just for
the lols and bantz,
The ones when washed, you hang out on a peg,
Aha! Posh pants, the ones that don’t cause a farce,
Or end
up disappearing up your arse.
Posh Socks
was getting ready and needed socks,
“Put on your good ones,” I heard my wife call,
So, I got a pair from my posh socks box,
Nice ones, that I don’t screw up in a ball
And throw from a distance into the wash,
Yes, socks that don’t have a single loose thread,
Those socks so stylish they can play toe squash,
And my wife doesn’t look at them with dread,
And posh socks indeed, are worn with posh shoes,
These are socks in fine form and with no holes,
You should get a pair, there’s nothing to lose,
These are socks so posh, you could play bowls,
I like my old socks, they’re close to my heart,
And never complain, even when I fart.