Pretending to be intelligent

Part of being a published writer/ publicity whore is that from time to time you get requests to do certain press things. Sometimes these are about your book. Some times they are fairly random and just fill a line a wider article about something topical. Recent short one liner interviews have included pondering on who I would hate to be stuck in a lift with, what I think of two-timer dirt bags (clue in how I've worded that one...), what my favourite Abba song is and, today, what my favourite Seamus Heaney poem is.
For those who don't know (which is my husband), Seamus Heaney is a vay famous County Derry born poet. His works are standard fair here at GCSE and many's a young local person will have studied the poem of horror that is 'Digging'.
So when I was asked what my favourite Seamus Heaney poem was my initial response was "Well, not fecking Digging, anyway".
I did remember that I found 'Mid Term Break' - a poem about the death of a four year old - very moving so I opted for that. But when I was asked what other Heaney poems I liked I struggled. I cast my mind back to those long hours studying for my GCSEs but my mind was a blank.
I no longer remember award winning poetry. The only poems circling through my head on a regular basis are nursery rhymes and I'm pretty sure Heaney didn't write 'Pat-A-Cake'.
Thank crunchy for Google and the ability to type while chatting on the phone however. I hope I managed to sound at least a little bit intelligent.