Tribute to Wendy Cope
I’ve met a poet or two
While tucked under the covers
Or soaking in the tub
With bubble dreams of lovers
And sometimes in the park
I’ve heard them softly giggle
Or fumbling in the dark
I’ve felt their word-worms wriggle
But giddy-gum delight
Watch me do a jiggly jive
Upon this hum-drum night
I met a poet still alive!
Her famous biting wit
With which she’s known to poke
Is wicked when it’s writ
But wickeder when spoke
Some say that she’s besotted
Her words are strung like rope
But whether straight or knotted
You’re bound to like Ms Cope
— Wayne Visser