I wish I could write like Pam Ayres,
Telling humorous stories in verse,
She sure has the knack of good doggerel,
It just flows without ever a curse.

No "bloody" or "damn" crosses her lips,
Or drips from the end of her pen,
Whereas I, to keep my lines in rhythm,
Must revert to a "shit" now and then.

Her impish charm adding charisma
While reading her poetry out loud
Goes well with her West Country accent,
I'll bet her old Mum feels dead proud.

She makes most of my poems seem pedestrian
'Cos hers flow, while mine barely crawl.
But I type mine out neatly and flash them around,
While she does a messy, unreadable scrawl.

So I guess we all have our own talents,
Pam could never write stories like me,
And if she could choose who to write like,
I'll bet she'd yell out, "Sandy P"!