Papa Oscar Echo Mike

Mike was a Romeo, I met him one November
Looking for a Juliet as far as I remember;
He was a kind of Alpha male, who drove a Ford Sierra,
I prefer a man in Uniform but they're a good deal rarer.
He said he liked my dancing shoes and would I like a Foxtrot.
We checked into a cheap Hotel and soon he found my hotspot.
I read him like an X-ray but he held me fascinated;
He could have won an Oscar but the film would be X rated.
I started craving spicy food from India and Nepal;
I put on weight, a Kilo; that's not like me at all.
Victor at the Golf club said "My boy you'll have to marry her."
Mike screamed and threw his arms about just like a Zulu warrior.
He said "You see, I'm not quite ready yet to be a Papa."
I called him a Charlie and he called me a slapper.
But it takes two to Tango as I really ought to know;
I Delta blow for women's lib and told him where to go.
He joined a Yankee sailing crew, leaving for Quebec;
My scathing cry of 'Bravo' seemed to Echo round the deck.
He runs a place in Lima now, it's called the Aztec Bar,
Drinking Whiskey, playing cards - I said that he'd go far.

Cossacks

Three flicks of scarlet dulled by snow grey breath,
Three gradual paladins drip with grizzly death;
Three ululations twisting through the wind,
Three doves to pacify, bring the melting spring.

Once far too often, cossack tipped his lance;
Once on a dream-wave peace fought with chance;
Once through a bow of light scattered bands
Hope's glow rekindled a time shattered land.