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NPB Peoms

For Emma

Or: How Leaving NPB Doesn't Excuse You from a Poem!

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So what shall I buy for your birthday?
For what sort of gift do you itch?
At the Coliseum I could buy you a drink
But somehow I don't think I'm that rich.

I could try and get your NPB job back
But that's too cruel to be planned.
I could always find someone to tattoo
Don't Panic on the back of your hands.

I might send a brand new straitjacket
In case you snap under the strain -
Working with thirty little kiddies
Is enough to send anyone insane.

If you manage to survive the little terrors
You surely must have a magic touch,
So I'll send you a box of Woolworth's
As you're bound to missing it that much.

As long as you don't go to Gladstones
Someone else's jacket might do,
But what I do best is write poems
And this one is dedicated to you.

Happy birthday you nineteen year old youngster
Now you can bang your birthday gong.
Just don't panic too much when I tell you
You won't be a teenager for long!


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