Ormulu at the Mad House

by Anna Thomas

Here, Forbesy Daubs and daddy Daffydd 
a right bungling pair for the car boot 
Dafty Daffydd waiting We’re late-ing
Dai’s diabolical give him an insulin
while Forbes Daubs – fat Artsy old fart –
finishing up the plum job dabs in 
lwyau caru by carbolic soap wrapped up.

On the TellyVision I saw a collared man, not the vicar one but 
spikes and he had a belly held taut in a latex trousers 
they had to cut him out of them with a scissors 
when he had that heart attack.

There was not enough rage in cynddaredd

Decipher it then, another Thomas in 
BitterEnglishSyllables – a sloe
puckers when – have I told you ever cariad
of the two riggers, both Daffyd, that we had – one worked six year at the morgue
and two whistled opera down by the forge – oh, Dai Riggaleto
and Dai Rigger Mortis – made foreman, the latter, lazy was the former.

Knitting biscuits for the British Heart Foundation
where the statuesque Margaret (Marge, pet)
tells always keep guz-berries (the Mexican way) 
in surup (slurp the word though it sticks).