My Nightly Righteous Ferment
I think that I shall never see
A piece of cake too big for me;
Though sometimes in a hazy dream
I eat a hunk of clotted cream:
This shows that we aren't what we seem
I burned my arse with kettle steam
Whilst dreaming of Ann Widdecombe;
Oh how I'd like to rub whipped cream
On her, whilst she sprays shaving foam
Into the parts that make a home
I never scoff at those who roam
Through bedrooms that are not their own
In search of toothpaste or of comb
Old biscuits, fishcakes or a bone -
O, why don't herring raise the tone?
I like to frolic with my cat
And wander idly with my fish
Not wanting to forswear a hat
Or liking much when in a dish -
Remember sugar makes you fat
I often sit beside the hearth
When my pet monkey has a bath
In water tepid and obscure
What does this mean? I'm not quite sure
That wet monkeys have much allure...
Contributors: | TG, Apsley, Roland, Pongo&perdita the 67th, fester, madge, Hamish. |
Poem finished: | 3rd May 2000. |