The Old Windsor Chair

The bones now creak in my bent back
And ever harder is the work
In waiting for my wood to crack.

I've royal sap, base timber lack;
My name shows I'm no fawning Burke.
The bones now creak in my bent back.

So many years, since they did hack
Me from the elm, where I did lurk
In waiting, for my wood, to crack.

Composed by one who had the knack
And prideful labour did not shirk.
The bones now creak in my bent back.

I think it is a worm attack.
I'm pimpled like a pickled gherk-
in, waiting for my wood to crack.

My socket holes have all gone slack;
I'd fall apart with one good jerk.
The bones now creak in my bent back
In waiting for my wood to crack.

©George Middleton 18th October 2000