A Sense of Rhythm

There’s a poem in my mind
on a marathon run,
beating my brain with a rum, tum tum,
hammering my head like a pounding drum.

It hasn’t got a subject,
it hasn’t got a name,
just a rhythm that is driven
by a mind insane.

I wish it would stop,
I wish it would end,
jiving and driving
me round the bend.

But it won’t let me go,
it won’t let me be
‘till I write it all out
and set it all free.

So that’s what I’m doing,
that’s what I’ve done -
Now it’s beating your brain with a rum tum tum.
Hammering your head like a pounding drum.
Rum tippy tum tippy rum tum tum…
Rum tippy tum tippy …

(Sorry!)