The Spoonbill Generator

One moonbeam, undercooked

Three drops of cactus-water [Roland]

Ten weighty tubs of time [P]

A nickel or a quarter [Roland]

Will scarify the slime [TG]

That cakes mine inner kettle [Roland]

And scrapes mine inner ear [TG]

And puts me on my mettle [Roland]

And fills my soul with fear [TG]

Then, with my old six-shooter [Roland]

I'll cry "Let him who dares [Bop]

Take on the arch-disputer [Roland]

And hurl him down the stairs." [P]

While any of my nephews [Roland]

(Who clamour hereabout) [TG]

Pelt enemies with refuse [Roland]

And kick them on the snout [P]

And all my fearsome nieces [Roland]

Expose themselves with gusto [Bop]

For they know the local police is [P]

Quite immune to lust. Oh ... [Roland]

Never mind, I've rested [TG]

From nine till half-past eight [Roland]

With brackets nicely nested [P]

Dreams in final spate [Roland]

Three drops of cactus-water [TG]

Eighty butts of lime [Roland]

Will suit my darling daughter [TG]

Only half the time [P]

Contributors: Roland, P, TG, Bop.
Poem finished: 15th September 1997.