Shelley wrote this poem over 200 years ago. He never foresaw the power of social media but of course, had he done so, he’d have embraced it. So, I thought, I’d maybe help him to consider what he might do if it got a bit much for the old boy…
And while you read it, here are some pictures from the garden – September is allowing us a lot of late season colour
I met a traveller from an antique land
A dodgy geezer from my wild youth
Who used the pseudonym of Ozy
I hesitated for a while: ‘Was he
The real deal? Ozy man,’ at last
I said, ‘dias a favour, forget the past,
And for old times tell me the truth
Or at least as much as I can stand.
The question is should I believe
All the crap that I have read
On snapchat and my twitter feed
About the fact that I am dead
To all of those who mean the most –
The flimflams and the muffin men –
The ones who write with poisoned pen
Those killing evil hateful posts.
Of course I said, I trust their views
There’s no such thing as fake news.
Oh is that so, the traveller said
You think you can weave a web
That will deceive your online foes?
And how will you achieve that goal?
Of protecting your immortal soul
Without the need to come to blows?
Who needs Facebook, text or tweets
If I’m going to, them, defeat?
I’ll do it, old school, go one better
I’ll dump the phone and write a letter.