The Spoonbill Generator

Limpopo Cocktail

Rivals, fourteen inches high, [P]

Distinguished, not by marks [Roland]

On shoulderblade, or hand, or thigh, [P]

Or twinkling of ear or eye [Roland]

But by they way they moan and sigh, [TG]

While playing works of Bach's [Roland]

They struggle, though they do not touch [P]

The table-top; they squirm [Roland]

And scream in Welsh (or is it Dutch?) [P]

The curses of the rabbit-hutch [Roland]

(But that's, of course, not saying much) [P]

At every passing worm [TG]

Though neither loses, neither wins [Roland]

And so the contest goes [TG]

Unheralded; their scaly skins [Roland]

Their fetid locks, their triple chins [TG]

Their antiquated violins [Roland]

Their broken oboboes [P]

Contributors: P, Roland, TG.
Poem finished: 4th December 2000.