One Last Lobster Seeking Re-election
"Ride onwards, lads, a new-born day
Will soon be dead and gone!
Sing loud this dreary roundelay
That rambles on and on
About inconsequential things
But seals at last the fate of kings
And then, a tiny trimaran
Will run before the gale
Across the tea-cup's mighty span
Hunting a tiny whale
A cocktail-stick, its dread harpoon
A breath of air its feared monsoon
Entirely." Thus, in lively tones
The president resumed
Despite a heaving in her bones
And knowledge she was surely doomed
To fossilise, unknown, unsung
- an object lesson for our young
Yet, underneath the table-cloth
The President well knew
She'd blown his cover, under oath
And seen him bent askew
And thus the one-time president
Became a theme-park resident
The moral, if you'd have one, must
Not grace the mouths of men
It reeks of unrepentant lust
That longs to sin again
It makes it clear that no man's power
Survives, unstained, his happy hour.
| Contributors: | TG, Roland, Bop, P, Loaf. |
| Poem finished: | 19th February 1998. |