• Home
  • Poems
    • Uncle Peter
    • Racist Horse
    • Little Kettle Do Not Die
    • A Life In Sales
    • Bus Stop By The Church
    • My Old Van's Knackered
    • Teenage Synthesist
    • The Curry Poem
    • Predictive Text
    • Grandad Eric
    • Garden Shed
    • Uncle Fred's Motorbike
    • New Mattress
    • Lawnmower Etiquette
    • Silence
  • Contact Us
  • About Us
  • Limericks
  • Video
  • More
    • Home
    • Poems
      • Uncle Peter
      • Racist Horse
      • Little Kettle Do Not Die
      • A Life In Sales
      • Bus Stop By The Church
      • My Old Van's Knackered
      • Teenage Synthesist
      • The Curry Poem
      • Predictive Text
      • Grandad Eric
      • Garden Shed
      • Uncle Fred's Motorbike
      • New Mattress
      • Lawnmower Etiquette
      • Silence
    • Contact Us
    • About Us
    • Limericks
    • Video
  • Home
  • Poems
  • Contact Us
  • About Us
  • Limericks
  • Video
Nigel Lloyd poetry

The World Has Run Out Of Curry

It came to my attention last night that the world has run out of curry

I woke up this morning in a cold sweat with my head all full of worry

The one I had last friday may have been my last

I never thought that curry would be a thing of the past.


What am I going to do without my Vindaloo?

There’s only so much pepper you can add to Irish stew

I am thinking of all the plain food and how to pep it up a bit

I hope they haven't run out of chillies or were really in the shit.


There’s no more Biryani, no more Keema Nan

The spice suppliers have closed their warehouse

 and sold their fleet of vans

There’s no more Tikka Masala, no more Beef Madras

The government had declared a state of emergency

And the Pope has cancelled mass.


There's talk of foreign countries 

Going to invade in our weakened state

The news channel headlines refer to Tandoori Gate

All the politicians are keen to show they care

There's even a Curry Crisis Celebrity Special

Who Wants to be a Millionaire.


I am really starting to panic now with all these thoughts I've had

I reach over and wake my wife and tell her things are bad

I wait for her reply as the news given might sound odd

She said "go back to sleep there's plenty of curry

You dreamt it you silly old sod".



Copyright © 2021 Nigel Lloyd poetry  - All Rights Reserved.

  • Privacy Policy

Powered by GoDaddy