Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club

The sheep stealer squealed
as she kissed the sheep dogs flock, letting slip a glaikit sleekit smile surveying her plunder so ill got.

Whilst the shiney eyed Shepherd
blew chunks and ran and ran, to the point he dove into the river where he swam and swam and swam.

And the Winchester recoil cracked. Erasing half a million smiles and the run keeper fell to his knees, like some bappit parochial Church Of England child.

So as I watched from ways afar
casting an alert and roving eye
I regressed back to another age
and the billets-doux of time.

And, now demulcent lager
Soothes my sore and rasping throat and the gypit lump of muscle, left of centre in my chest, beats a smooth brush paradiddle and keeps on keeping on.....with those I love.....

Do wap be do be do....That's Jazz!