Bottomless Yachting
A plethora of penguins is rarely to be found
And certainly but seldom more than two feet from the ground
Yet in the month of April, when fire is in the sky
And sometimes in the depths of polar winter in July
And once or twice when marmalade is spread across the snow
It seems that all the penguins in the world are gathered on the floe.
Thrice, thrice woe!
A googolplex of gremlins is something to behold
All huddled in a corner as they cower from the cold
Yet in the kitchen garden, when plums and pears are ripe
And full of lustrous colours that one does not see in tripe,
One senses they are ill at ease, whatever time of year
From lack of sleep, or oxygen, or simply too much beer
Quite, hear hear!
A multitude of muskrats is very hard to hide
And those who do attempt this task are often vilified
Yet in my father's haversack, one Thursday, more or less
It all comes back so clearly, though my memory's a mess,
I think I had some twenty-nine, all cunningly concealed
In custard that was past its best and almost quite congealed,
Oh no, gross!
| Contributors: | The Agent Apsley, Mrs TG, Roland, TG, P, Grayman. |
| Poem finished: | 8th February 2000. |