Will Scarlett Ruffled Your Whiskers
And smooth your ruffled feathers
Before you absolutely lose the plot
And loosen all your tethers
For the tale that here unfolds
Will bury every hatchet
Within the copious folds
Of ample Mrs. Cratchit
Our tale begins in 'forty-nine
And ends in 'forty-six
A curious space-time design
Can you if it fix
And so our tale draws to a close
Before it really began
But that's the way it often goes
Bass-ackwards and back hand
If you want to re-tell this tale
Be my guest
Contributors: | N, F, Baoloa, Grayman, Dassn't Say, Beefy, Roland, Ethetran, sp, smrtypnts. |
Poem finished: | 28th August 2003. |