The Spoonbill Generator

Who Wobbles Behind the Arras?

Champagne was flowing down the stairs, perhaps. [Apsley]

'Twould puzzle me to see it flowing up [Roland]

Unless impelled by thirty-six knee-caps, [Apsley]

Each hollowed out to make a Christening Cup [loaf]

For that is what The Dreadful Edict said - [Apsley]

The team of eighteen cricketers, in pads, [Roland]

Should throng the staircase, like the living dead, [Apsley]

Wearing cups to protect their precious nads [dan]

And, from a trumpet, quoff the flowing wine [Apsley]

If no bassoon be found, nor clarinet [Roland]

That could produce the garting hideous whine [Apsley]

One hears when one castrates a marmoset [Roland]

Champgane, I say, flowed swiftly and downwards [Apsley]

Thae staircase was awash with golden fizz [Beefy]

That trickled in its costly way town-wards [Apsley]

Betraying that it was not what it is [loaf]

And thus the moral's plaine to see, I say: [Apsley]

Consistency in all things is a bore [Roland]

For those whose life is just pretence and play, [Apsley]

Let's go get pissed, and write this junk no more! [Beefy]

Contributors: Apsley, Roland, loaf, dan, Beefy.
Poem finished: 28th January 2002.