Golden Grahams

I had an accursed journey into work today as I'd ommitted to bring any reading material with me. I had Earthly Powers and Amsterdam in my rucksack, but only to pass on to someone else as I've just read them. Then I noticed that the woman opposite me was reading a book of poetry by Scottish women, and I decided to make it a miniaim of the day to discover some poetry and share it with you. It should be noted that the woman reading the book of poetry by Scottish women was stupid. She sat on the seat nearest the aisle, despite that the window seat was free, and pointed her knees out in the aisle so that people kept bashing into her book as they passed. She tutted, they frowned, I tittered. Then, after discovering the poems that follow, I chuckled loud and long.

L'enfant Glacé by Harry Graham
When baby's cries grew hard to bear
I popped him in the frigidaire.
I never would have done so if
I'd known that he'd be frozen stiff.
My wife said: 'George, I'm so unhappé!
Our darling's now completely frappé!

And this...
Tender Heartedness
Billy, in one of his nice new sashes,
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes;
Now, although the room grows chilly,
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.

I particularly like the titles.