A Toasted Budgie in my Laxative
This extra leg's a bother
When I play the clarinet
The cornet and the washboard;
I've been to see the vet
He's trained in amputation
- A skill that I admire -
Yet, though I bribe him hourly
He claims my outlook's dire
'You one-man bandits! Tell me,
Can one live without a limb?
Can one plough one's lonely furrow
If one's vitals lack for vim?
Can one sing without one's supper
Can you fiddle for a dime?
Take my fifteen foolish footsteps
For a dance in triple time
We'll trip the light fantastic,
Turn cartwheels out the door
Is your surgeon plastic?
Lacks he tooth, or claw?
Glennys is the best
The others can't compete
Glenny scobs a rusty knob under the sheet,
It makes me depressed
So all you three-legged Turkish,
Pipers of the globe
Conjoin with us, your brothers
Beneath your garish robe
Delight in this, you mothers,
Of grand or other kind
And, using wit or courage
Scour the corners of my mind
And, should you find a reason
To lose this extra limb
Try roasting it with garlic
And toast it with a hymn
And, when they dub you crazy
As, to be fair, they must
You'll quash them with a daisy
And fill their beds with dust
And, wakened by their sneezes,
Resounding through the streets
You'll yell: "Until Hell freezes
I'll sound no more retreats!"
I'll cross the floor in triple time
I'll dance a brief quadrille
I'll leap across the vast abyss
Between myself and skill.
Contributors: | Roland, P, TG, Stacy, Bop, Anon., Loaf, KD. |
Poem finished: | 20th September 1997. |