The Spoonbill Generator

Pam Sandwiches, Pruriently Sliced

The millimetre: squat, unclean [Surlaw]

Unworthy measure of our queen [Shipp]

And of her unctuous subjects bland [Surlaw]

Far too short to span the land [Shipp]

Far too slim to fill the gap [Surlaw]

Between the flagpoles on the map [Shipp]

That shows the Empire, laid to waste [Surlaw]

By bombs and missiles made of paste [Shipp]

By clubs and cudgels wrought from phlegm [Surlaw]

According to the apophthegm, [Apsley]

Whose dictum is beyond all doubt [Surlaw]

To those who speak the tongue of trout - [Apsley]

To those who dream in urban black [Surlaw]

I say 'I want my turban back!', [Apsley]

While those who favour rustic white [Surlaw]

Do not know drakest day from night [Apsley]

And abrogate their appetite [Surlaw]

In manner prim and quite obscure [Apsley]

Embroidering the Upper Ruhr [Surlaw]

With a sandwich from the weft [Apsley]

That the addled spawn had left [Surlaw]

On the toe-nails of the king [Apsley]

As he danced the Highland Fling [Surlaw]

About the market-place [Apsley]

In farthest Thrace [Surlaw]

(The Captain claimed) [Apsley]

Our fresh disgrace [Surlaw]

Would go unnamed [Apsley]

Contributors: Surlaw, Shipp, P, Apsley.
Poem finished: 21st October 2003 by Anon..