Blessed, Blessed, this Momenteum of the Morning
I told him that he shouldn't hoard the family's only Oiuja board
But he ignored my sage and prudent warning
It's true that we're all really fond of contacting the great beyond
But he only proffered his pain, lament, and mourning
With which no man could rightly bear upon a day with deep despair
At least, not without considerable fawning
I mentioned that he shouldn't try to patch his one remaining eye
But alas! He'd plugged his one remaining ear
His sight has never been the same since Auntie Ethelreda came
Clad in garments really rather sheer
The scream he gave was quite a beaut 'pon seeing Auntie's birthday suit.
From an angle three-quarters to the rear
I gave him orders thick and fast that he should keep awake
But he chose to doze and thereby hangs a tale
So I dragged him by the pony-tail and pushed him in the lake
Where many men had spied the spotted whale
Which monster failed to appear, its presence but a myth I fear
Put about by those who quoff a heady pint of ale
I stressed that he should at least try to keep his socks and undies dry
But he insists on sitting in a bog
I told him he should come along, but then I couldn't stand the pong
And sent him off to try and find a frog
That might make small the minuscule and elsewise magnify
The effort that must soon complete the slog
I tried and tried to make him see that no-one likes the smell of pee
A noxious stench, evoking potent dreams
Of elephants that rage in trees and eat bananas sent from Rheims
The while devising sundry dirty schemes
But no tirade of shouts and calls would badger him to change his smalls
For those of silk, the course the wiseman deems
I lost my patience with him then, and locked him in a cattle-pen
But lo! He started lowing like a cow
Estranged from all its bovine kin and harnessed to a rusty plough
The din assails my eardrums even now
But I suppose I shouldn't mutter; my wife & kids could use the butter
To bake a cake for tea - I wonder how?
I then resolved to have it out lest lesser men should shave my snout
But he was on a planet all his own
No matter what I did or said he only sat and scratched his head
And muttered to a small immobile 'phone
The size of Manchester without its hub, which made me see things red
"Oh, sod it!" quoth I; left him there alone
Contributors: | Teresa Incognita, TG, Desert Heat, The Agent Apsley, Grayman, Elizabeth, Katie. |
Poem finished: | 11th October 1999. |