Martyrs To The Biscuit Guardians
The bilemonger's bill
Was rendered too late
Rewarding his skill
With a helping of skate
But sneering aloud
Is seldom esteemed
The poor and the proud
Should swiftly be creamed
And sold as a pulp
To dear Meryl Streep
To down in one gulp
As a toast to her sleep
As a toast to her shin
As a toast to her neck
As a toast to her skin
Toasting all her many parts
The wreck ...
I say once again
The bilemonger's bill
Found creditors none
Rewarding his skill
Or rebuking his fun
But snoring aloft
With trotters and ale
The pawnbroker coughed
And made his wife pale
To think of his crime
More drak than the sea
More wasted than time
Spent drinking tea
Spent drinking rum
Spent drinking ghee
Spent drinking cum
Spilling on her many parts
Pardee
I say till I'm tired
The billmonger's bile
Was washed up at Sheen
In moribund style
By the king and the queen
When all who declined
To sup at the cup
Were not of a mind
To reckon it up
In minutes per mile
From Moscow to Thrace
In penitent style
Not playing the ace
Not playing the four
Not playing the race
Not playing McGraw
Dying in her many parts
Apace
From which redundant lines we learn
Whether it's time to drown, or burn
Contributors: | Surlaw, Apsley, (trad), loaf. |
Poem finished: | 13th February 2004 by Apsley. |