The Spoonbill Generator

Beyond Any Logic

In autumn-time, a small spittoon [Roland]

Must serve in lieu of warming-spoon [TG]

A custom which has oft been cursed [P]

By sailors, who are not well versed [TG]

In metaphysic or in law [P]

Although they know how much to draw [TG]

Each pay-day, when they go ashore [Roland]

And, once ashore, they know full well [P]

The haunts where dusky mermaids dwell [Roland]

But shun them, for they smell of cod [TG]

And seek the private paths, untrod [Roland]

By landlocked folk who shun the deep [P]

Where nautilus and narwhal sleep [Roland]

Preferring acquiescent sheep [TG]

Along those paths, in three and fours, [P]

They surge like agitated boars [TG]

Their tusks akimbo; on the trail [Roland]

Of bandicoot and spotted quail [P]

On whom to sate their baleful lust [Roland]

As all men know that sailors must [P]

Before descending into dust [Roland]

Contributors: Roland, TG, P.
Poem finished: 12th November 2000.