The Spoonbill Generator

Apricot Britain

My ice-cream dribbled into the soft earth, as Rachel [Apsley]

Blew tender kisses [Anon.]

To her androgynous friend, and cut [Apsley]

The cheese and fishes. [fester]

What a spread was there to see! [Apsley]

Five miles away you could smell it-- [fester]

Or was that Rachel's body odour?-- [Apsley]

Sadly it was--and none could quell it. [fester]

None save the Bishop of Bath & Wells, [Apsley]

Who, firmly clutching his mitre, [dkb]

Thrust apart the Walls of Doom, [Apsley]

(His body had grown lither) [Beefy]

His cassock glowed with holy light [fester]

(You know the kind...) [Apsley]

His mitre smote he with full might [fester]

Plump Rachel's fat behind - [Apsley]

He spanked her fully half an hour [fester]

With urgent thumping [Apsley]

"These blows will drive the demons out!" [fester]

He howled, whilst pumping [Apsley]

His face grew purple as he beat [fester]

his shoes flew across the room [melody]

In these exertions, mighty heat [Apsley]

Was produced, and ran right through him [fester]

Rachel, then, was a bruiséd lass, [Apsley]

When the Bishop's robes ignited [fester]

And burnt up the Khyber Pass [Apsley]

Perhaps he got too excited! [fester]

The moral, then, for Rachel's kind, [Apsley]

Is "Always wash your fat behind, [fester]

Lest maggots should infest you there" [Apsley]

(The same applies to underwear) [fester]

And if this moral fall on deaf ear [dan]

Then curséd be the rhymes that stand here [Apsley]

Contributors: Apsley, Anon., fester, dkb, Beefy, melody, dan.
Poem finished: 29th April 2002.