Punctuated Parsimony
There' s no use whining
At the price of beet
Your last day's shining
On your death-bed's sheet
There's no point wheezing
In the freezing breeze
At the phlegm you're sneezing
Over seven seas
There's no need thinking
As the backlog grows
That it needs shrinking
As one might suppose
There's no way boozing
Can help you through
You're best off losing
From twelve 'til two
There's no gain trying
To beat the game
There's trades for plying
If John's you'd tame
Envoi
Those that bemoan their fate
Do so too late
Contributors: | (The Master), Apsley, loaf, cora, fester, Grayman, Roland, asdf. |
Poem finished: | 5th March 2004 by Apsley. |