What Are Flemish Trousers?
Astride the edge of any knife
A fly is quite uneasy
He knows that if he slips, his wife
Will never learn to play the fife
Because she'll feel so queasy
Marooned upon a table mat
A fly's not very suave
He dips his head, believing that
He'll never get to be squashed flat
At home in the Algarve
Sucking leftovers from a plate
this is the poor fly's fate
Alas,alack Oh! woe is he
The fly who never shaves
Yet parts his hair to left not right
To simplify his line of sight
for this will be his last flight
What is a hapless fly to do?
Nothing to eat but crap and goo!
A noxious patch of Daddy's sauce
May well be his undoing
A steaming heap, his albatross
With no recourse to dental floss
will fail in his un-going
Beware the fly who's quite undone
Lest you become unzipped,
Though he's not at all good with a gun
(Please pardon the pun)
Because over this he will have tripped
Balanced upon the meniscus
A fly must tread discreetly
Although the sauce is viscous
(It's been standing there since Christmas)
It will not stick completely
He grips the ceiling, upside down,
A views the world asunder
This scenic view is so surreal
It makes a lassie wonder
(Another rhyming blunder)
| Contributors: | Roland, dkb, fester, Apsley, melinda, keith c, Grayman, Beefy, Julie Harris, Barrymore's Ghost, shaz, Armful, Nigel, Stacy Alexander. |
| Poem finished: | 22nd January 2003. |