An early draft of Wordsworth's famous poem has just been discovered:

I wandered as lone as a cloud,
And my feet pushed their way through a crowd
Of vile yellow weeds
That nobody needs,
Those damned things should not be allowed.

As I ambled along like a clod,
Those disgusting daffs I now trod,
With their foul slimy sap,
They really are crap,
I'll trample the bastards, by God.

And those bloody clouds are a pain.
Yes, now it's beginning to rain.
I should be indoors
With a couple of whores.
They wouldn't be taxing my *Brain.*

Oh why did I come to Grassmere.
The countryside's so bloody drear.
I should be in town
At the old Rose And Crown,
With a couple of pints of good beer.

And as for the fish in this lake,
No sign of a salmon or skate.
Just a minnow or sprat
Not fit for the cat.
I could do with a good fillet steak.

It's all down to my sister Dot,
That we're in this infernal spot.
She said she'd give head
When we went to bed,
But so far, the bitch, she has not.

Willie Wordsmith.

(I assume that by the time of his final draft
things had improved in that department. - Tiddy Ogg.)

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Last updated: Sun, 19 Sep 1999.