The Spoonbill Generator

The Lilliputan Comb

"'Inertia'? What a charming name!"

The startled midwife shrieked

To each new mother in the ward

a-gorging at the smorgasbord

The smorgasbord at last had gone

To face its Appalachian Spring

To each new warder flew a moth

Above the Appalachian Froth

Preternatural? Not a chance!

With five electrodes in each scalp

To each new order bows the mob

And only costs a couple o' bob

Mr Gascoigne, round and flat

Was terrorized by lemmings;

They swarmed across his sleeping throat

And sewed their skins into a coat.

"'Entropy'? You'll rue the day!"

The midwife wailed aloud

"Your perfect teeth will turn to dust

If you betray our wanderlust!"

"'Geography?' I've never heard

It spelt that way before:

However svelte, it's fat behind

Now we are out of sight and mind

"Momentum?" It is far too late

To rebaptise our kin

And far too late to start again

Without a new, and larger, brain.

Contributors: Roland, Jane, Peter, Anon., TG, Mick, John D., Carl Wonzmann, giles, P.
Poem finished: 27th December 1996.