The Spoonbill Generator

To Hypnotise Badgers Bereft Of Discretion

Across the hills a cry rang out: [Roland]

"Take care! Watch out! Beware its snout - [Hamish]

Triumphant!". Yet to those of us [Roland]

Immune to its venom, the fuss [fester]

Promoted merely mirth [Roland]

It stalked the hills; those bit would yell [fester]

And retch, so vile its putrid smell [Roland]

The bite did not hurt, but the stench [fester]

Was toxic both to swain and wench [Roland]

Who fell upon the earth [fester]

Yet we, unharmed among those hills [Roland]

'Midst bodies (just stinky - not killed) [fester]

Could not but laugh to see such fools [Grayman]

Unconscious, in disgusting pools [fester]

And cry, "What is it worth ... [Roland]

"To see these fools upon the fell - [fester]

You know the ones, I send them gel - [Apsley]

They set such styles for their hair [Grayman]

As supposing any care [Roland]

Whose spawn they were at birth" [Hamish]


Contributors: Roland, Hamish, fester, Grayman, Apsley, P.
Poem finished: 13th June 2000.