Birches and Britches
You went out for some fresh air
by the bins with the smokers,
but neglected to sweep
that leaf-seed thing off your leg,
allowing Mother Nature
to procreate with your trousers,
creating, in time, a hideous trouser-tree,
sprouting trousers
in various sizes, styles and fabrics
– corduroy, Teflon, gingham –
with labels already attached
which you then sold to worried,
trouserless men in pubs
for a fiver each.
Poem by Mr Chris Lindores
