Transplant for Triplets (Under Local Anaesthetic)
"The funny thing is," remarked Smith
"I seem to be trapped in this myth:
I was tied to the stake for crimes
Committed in legend'ry times
But was rescued by some of my kith
(Of whom I'm the fourth or the fifth)
And when we consider his case
A strange transformation takes place
The world that we know turns pale
And swims around in noxious ale
It constantly shows a new face
To the verminous vacuum of space
So let us take heart, and press on
And hope that our doubts are soon gone
Though archetypes hold us in thrall
If we're steadfast. we'll break through the wall
Rejecting conclusions foregone
And anything pallid or wan
For Smith, he was not what he seemed
He couldn't be heard when he screamed
Upholder of all he felt right
He lived in perpetual fright
His dogma he buffed 'til it gleamed
His prejudice openly steamed
It all started when Smith went to Spain
To quench the demands of his brain
In the foosteps of Quixote he strode
With only one foot on the road
The other he dragged on a string
To save his poor donkey from strain
Poor Donkey, he got tossed off the roof
Which proves, if we needed the proof
One's far better off than a mule
Attempting to sit on a stool
And far better off than a horse
Attempting to be bluff and coarse
Contributors: | Beefy, Roland, Apsley, P, Glider, loaf, Grayman. |
Poem finished: | 8th August 2002. |