On first looking into the eyes of Johnny Solstice

Pride and prejudice both assaulted ;

Sense and sensibilty somersaulted,

At the first sight and sound of the ranting Scot -

Though now I know his voice

Is Scottish and he's really not.

He got to the bit where his head might burst,

Lip-popped the microphone,

Swung his hair, slaked a thirst,

Performed a few more

Smoked, grimaced, cursed,

And walked from the stage

Walked my way - Heyhey

The perfect chance for me to say,

"Hi -poet! enjoyed your stuff -

Even that bit that sounded a bit rough

When you accidentally popped the mic :

My advice? Keep it in, it worked,

Do it again : you could call it : Vox Pop

Two Guinness-pool eyes lumbered over me :

The man didn't speak.

"Hey! I'm fond of a drop of Guinness myself -

Didya know, 'Dublin' means 'Blackpool'? It's true!

The man did not speak, but his smile glowed, beamed,

On me. And - oh - it turned pitiful

As he stood, and looked, and loomed, over me ;

And I sat and looked, up into those eyes -

And then - a n d  t h e n , he kissed me.

B o o m  - DahdooJohnJohnny. Johnny Solstice

Kissed me - on the top of my head,

Like a politician kissing a baby,

Or like a Thatcher fondling a calf, but more

Like a poet compassionately showing

A daft listener the right way to

Feel sheepish.

My brain's been clearer since, no scrapey there :

The treatment was right, like a mystic bonnie poultice

The night I was kissed by Johnny Solstice.