Ode to The Milkman.

Great show yesterday kid. A great show which showed in vivid detail the tragedy of buying cheap, Taiwan microphones. If the BBC must make drastic cuts, why don't they slash Steven Nolan's expenses? £500 for a secondhand Patrick Moore suit and a staggering £2,500 on prawn cocktail crisps!!! If the BBC carry on like this they will incur the wrath of the, "Occupiers." In America the occupiers have brought Wall Street to a standstill. No wall has left Wall Street for three weeks. The trucks can't get in to transport walls to Boston, Baltimore or Baghdad. Numerous Hanks and Ethels are left staring at three walls and thinking long and hard about joining the Tea Party. "Hank," said Ethel, "America is going down the toilet like a suicide floater!"
"Gosh, durn, dammit," growled Hank. "I got me a good mind to pick up my rifle, buy me a clown's mask and climb a tall building!"
"Well, you be careful Hank," Said Ethel. "You know for durn, tooting sure that Jesus loves you!"
Tommy my cat, sat reading an early copy of Alex Atwood's new book, "My Unsuccessful Bid To Lead The SDLP" and said, "Alex Atwood is a literary genius. His writing is well above the standard of most eight year olds. Listen to this impressive passage.
"When I heard old Maggie May was throwing in the dishcloth, I said to myself, "Alex yeh boy, NIGH is the time to don political G-string and climb the greasy pole. NIGH is the time to issue in the reign of Atwood. Your time is NIGH Alex. NIGH is the time to stamp your authority on Norn' Iron. Not sometime in the future Alex, but-NIGH!"
"What prose!" I yelled. "If Seamus Heaney had the brains to write good prose like what that is, he would call it poetry!"
"Did you know," said Tommy, "that a note Seamus Heaney left for his milkman has just won a prestigious poetry award in Finland?"
I gave a yelp and cried, "I must hear that ode before I die!" Tommy pulled a grubby piece of paper from his pocket and said, "And hear it you shall! I have in my hand a piece of paper. Written on this piece of paper is the poem that sent the literary world in Finland into a dog barking frenzy. Pin back your flappers and hark to the words of a genius.
"OH early-rising milk purveyor
Early minstrel of the dawn
Hark to my words, my hale, stout fellow
And then, just carry on.

I shall be away two days this week
So on these days, no milk I seek.
The days when I will not be here
Are Tuesday and Friday, now, is that clear?

All other days of the coming week
Two cartons of milk I verily seek.
Long gone is the fear of the small bluetit
Thank you my man and keep her lit."

The silence which followed the remarkable ode was profound, perplexed and prolonged!!!