Poem using only song titles of the Beatles
Martha my dear,
Hello, little girl. Good morning, good morning. No reply? Please Mr. Postman, slow down.
From me to you, I want to tell you: Julia, her majesty, she’s leaving home. Your mother should know. She loves you. And I love her.
I’m down. Lonseome tears in my eyes come together — rain. I feel fine, getting better. Do you want to know a secret? I’ll be back. I’ll get you. I need you. Got to get you into my life.
Till there was you, there’s a place for no one. This boy — I wanna be your man. I want to hold your hand, little child. It’s all too much. You’ll be mine, when I’m sixty-four. Wait. It won’t be long.
Don’t pass me by. Let it be something. September in the rain, flying chains all together now. Like dreamers do, I’m only sleeping. All things must pass. I should have known better. I’m a loser. The night before you’re going to lose that girl — misery I will come and get it not a second time. You won’t see me when I get home.
Don’t bother me. Slow down. Act naturally. Think for yourself. You can’t do that what you’re doing, what you’re doing to me.
If I fell, tell me why. Every little thing. If I needed someone, what goes on? Another girl? That’ll be the day. I’ll cry instead. Cry for a shadow, crying waiting hoping…a day in the life, in my life.
Drive my car across the universe, a long and winding road back in the USSR. The fool on the hill, Norwegian wood (this bird has flown) free as a bird, blackbird. And your bird can sing here, there, and everywhere.
Oh! Darling, in spite of all danger, ask me why I call your name. I’m looking through you, searchin’. I’ve just seen a face fixing a hole. I’ve got a feeling — the inner light.
Long, long, long, revolution! Happiness is a warm gun, old brown shoe, junk. The word that means a lot, words of love, it’s only love, yes it is. Two of us — a beginning, the end.
Because things we said today help get back yesterday. We can work it out, girl, with a little help from our friends. Don’t let me down.
You know my name (look up the number) Any time at all. I’m so tired, good night.
PS I love you. Real love.
(Source: Alison’s search of all things Beatles and cat-related things for me - http://bit.ly/1l88RJ5)