Afternoon Prayers, Being a Master-Class for Emissaries of Torpor
Let's be quick! Their backs are turned
Their dog-food looks quite tasty
In any case, our boats are burned
We've got to be real hasty
Warden's at the garden door
And his gun isn't holstered
But he knows he'll get what for
If he can't cut the mustard
Cut the mustard, split the jam
Stir the custard, act the ham!
Let's be quick! Their knives are sharp
It's time for retribution
In any case, rise with the lark
That heads our revolution
The Commissar is in the street
And he is full of bluster
His final stand, both short and sweet
A face-full of cold custard!
Mine the beanfield, shell the peas
Spill the beans and spell the bees!
Let's be quick! Their words are cruel
Their bark is more than biting
In any case, we've got the tools
To sabotage the lighting
The wolf is lurking by the door
The darkling thrush is crowing
I know that it's a frightful bore
But "'Bye!" ... I must be going.
Wet your whistle, wet the bed
Whet the knife and cut your head?
Contributors: | Roland, fester, Apsley, loaf, P. |
Poem finished: | 22nd November 2001. |