The Milky’s Cart

She rode on the back of the milky’s cart,

In her green pyjamas and Donald duck slippers,

The horse knew which way to go,

Around the town and back again.

 

In her green pyjamas and Donald duck slippers,

How did the horse know where to go?

Around the town and back again.

To nan and pop’s back gate.

 

How did the horse know where to go?

It had walked the route so many times,

To nan and pop’s back gate,

She thought the horse so clever.

 

It had walked the route so many times,

The horse knew which way to go,

She thought the horse so clever,

She rode on the back of the milky’s cart.

Fraud

Shhhhh! don’t tell, but I’m a fraud,

It makes me cringe when some applaud,

And praise me for what I have done,

Are they telling the truth, or just having fun?

‘Oh, poor love, she gave it a try,

So we’ll humour her with a lie.’

 

I look at things that others do,

And lament, ‘I’m not as good as you,’

But still, some see fit to commend,

As though I am on par with them,

It only serves to confuse,

Perhaps it’s all part of their ruse?

 

Imposter Syndrome is far too grand,

For the likes of who I am,

But an imposter is how I feel,

Just a pretender, nothing real,

Don’t use the writer/artist label,

For me ‘cause all I do is dabble.

 

With educated intellectuals,

My poor mind seems ineffectual,

Enlightened ones in all their wisdom,

I look like a cheap imitation,

Surely someone will discover,

The truth about me and tear me asunder.

 

Fake, Phoney, Charlatan, Sham,

Names I too well understand,

I’m just playing at being clever,

I wonder if I will ever,

Believe the compliments that some give me,

Or forever be burdened by this insecurity?