The Spoonbill Generator

Devout Epic On A Tiresome Champion

How ponderous, how ponderous

The sermons of the Wake

The fallen wedding cake

How wholly wondrous!

There is no idleness in such sublime raticinations

And scanty shame in these our pre-cerebral syncopations

Aloft! Soars the balloon

To ravish any cloud

To amaze the restless crowd

The lean baboon

Ah! had we baboons enough and slime

Soy Sauce might seep away

To fill the drowning bay

With grease and grime

A paradigm

No time

How lachrymose, how lachrymose

The undertaker's art

In chains, beneath his cart

Now wholly comatose

There is no folly rampant in such eldritch ruminations

Nor wisdom in the common wish of massive populations

Ah, bubbly, bubbly, bubbly!

The boiling pot of tar

The seething samovar

'mid ruins rubbly

The grate's a vile and public place

To store the family's shame

To char the glowing name

And shun the human racr

Its populace

Sans grace

Contributors: Roland, TG, P, Bop, Linda.
Poem finished: 29th May 1997.