The Pan Holds Mixed Croutons
The doctrine of a shining spoon
The tenets of the saintly moon
A pepper of the prickling stars,
Persuaded
The doctor of the heart's disease
The patina on pilgrims' knees
To mind his P's and Q's and R's
As they did
smoking green cigars
In crimson Jaguars
The denizens of countless bars
(their brollies left in tramway cars)
gets their intestants ripped out through the arse
Thus raided!
The force has doctored all receipts
And, at the sheep-dip, countless bleats
Betoken countless bell-shaped jars
Evaded
Smirking grins upset
The pirates of Tibet
The timeless recipe for clocks
Requires a hundredweight of socks
To sink, unnoticed, in the docks
Ungraded
The vital toll, till now unspent
A cause for yet one more lament,
And drifting vapour, heaven-sent
But jaded
Smiting grim sedans
Delights the waiting fans
Who hate the also-rans
Who stole the Papal plans
To change the Isle of Man's
Identity, unaided
Contributors: | Roland, P, Stacy, TG, Bop, Anon., Some call me.. Tim. |
Poem finished: | 18th September 1997. |