The Spoonbill Generator

Our Socratic Brethren Will One Morning Save The Welsh Unaided

Plato's grin did shame the sun       [Apsley ]

His belly-laugh, the moon       [Roland ]

His tears could wash away the trees       [Beefy ]

Dissolve the Stone of Scone       [Roland ]

Into an currant-bun       [Apsley ]

And bring that to its knees       [Roland ]

And yet he did forswear to laugh       [Apsley ]

At Socrates his jokes       [Roland ]

But, pointing to the watching throng,       [Beefy ]

He played his final hoax:       [Roland ]

Dividing all his gold in half       [Beefy ]

He burst into this song:       [Apsley ]

"The ear, it cannot choose but hear,       [(trad) ]

Yet listen not to murd'ring fear       [Apsley ]

Ye nymphs of radiant eye       [Roland ]

But where the laughing dolphins play       [Beefy ]

Their bombardons, we scarcely may       [Roland ]

Ascend the glist'ning sky!"       [Beefy ]

With that, he closed his final eyes       [Roland ]

And waved his final hand       [Beefy ]

The proffered cup of gilded lies       [dok ]

Had never looked so grand       [Roland ]

And, in the forms, a form he spied       [Apsley ]

And very little else beside       [Roland ]

Moral:       [Apsley ]

My thorax. though infirm       [Roland ]

And somewhat prone to wheeze       [Beefy ]

Has banished every germ       [Roland ]

And perfumed every sneeze       [Apsley ]

Contributors: Apsley, Roland, Beefy, (trad), dok.
Poem finished: 26th April 2005 by Roland.