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The poetry of Kris Mercer


The Dream

I dreamt I was in Camelot
when all the knights were there.
I dreamt I was in Camelot
when all the maids were fair.
I dreamt I met a handsome knight
upon a big black horse.
And when he picked his maiden fair,
it was me of course.
When morning came,
I found him gone.
He wasn't really there.
My bed I left with deep regret.
But what is that ? A hair?
"It is not mine".
I cried aloud.
Then sat to think it out.
Oh No!
It was no dream at all
but the whisky, the gin
........ and the stout.
So girls beware,
of (k)nights so rare.
When you're out getting tight.
The man of your dreams
maybe all that he seems.
But in the morning
you'll see the light.


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