Trip, 15th August 1812
The sun had scarcely risen when we started down the lane
Two hundred miles an hour heading for the tower
And no man had yet complained,
The gingerbread had risen when I ate it down entire
Screaming Oh No were on fire!
And no one had yet ordained
The mast was almost mizzen when I tumbled from the poop
Grasping wildly for the scoop,
- I wish it hadn't rained
Contributors: | TG, nomi, Stacy, The Agent Apsley, P. |
Poem finished: | 7th January 1999. |