Wenches, Rogues, Wrestlers
Not spacious, like a blunderbus
A penguin beak's no place to stay
Yet all the monks must make a fuss
Because all else is full today
Quite shiney, like a mysterybus
That comes replete with extra 'e's,
And lacking spaces, used by us
To generate an air of sleaze.
More sleazy than an omnibus
Of soiled voyeurs in greasy coats,
Each one of whom seethes with the lust
Of rampant lions, rutting goats.
Contributors: | loaf, fester, Stacy Alexander, Apsley, Roland, dkb, Anon.. |
Poem finished: | 27th November 2002. |