Devout Epic On A Tiresome Champion
How ponderous, how ponderous
The sermons of the Wake
The fallen wedding cake
How wholly wondrous!
There is no idleness in such sublime raticinations
And scanty shame in these our pre-cerebral syncopations
Aloft! Soars the balloon
To ravish any cloud
To amaze the restless crowd
The lean baboon
Ah! had we baboons enough and slime
Soy Sauce might seep away
To fill the drowning bay
With grease and grime
A paradigm
No time
How lachrymose, how lachrymose
The undertaker's art
In chains, beneath his cart
Now wholly comatose
There is no folly rampant in such eldritch ruminations
Nor wisdom in the common wish of massive populations
Ah, bubbly, bubbly, bubbly!
The boiling pot of tar
The seething samovar
'mid ruins rubbly
The grate's a vile and public place
To store the family's shame
To char the glowing name
And shun the human racr
Its populace
Sans grace
| Contributors: | Roland, TG, P, Bop, Linda. |
| Poem finished: | 29th May 1997. |