Over-baked blossom
Now listen, please. I've brought you here
So kindly do not slurp your beer
Until my brother, Kasimir
Has told the truth about King Lear
And all his Merrie Men
And when you've listened to his tales
(in which invention rarely fails)
Of princes, kings, and killer whales
And men who hide their heads in pails
He'll tell it all again
His kingdom stretched from hill to shore
(Remember, this was days of yore)
Until my brother, Karrimor
Defender of the Chankly Bore
Defaced his only map
The map that showed the quarries deep
Where manticores and dragons sleep
And Slithy Toves are wont to creep
(Exactly like Uriah Heep)
Was now one mottled scrap.
"Alas", he cried, and wept a tear
For Karrimor and Kasimir
And with a face afire with fear
He plunged into a vat of beer
By bitter overcome
The moral of the story's plain
Be careful of another's pain
And tip no beer into the drain
Nor schnapps nor cider; just champagne
(Perhaps a little rum)
Contributors: | Roland, TG, P, KT, (trad), The Agent Apsley, Grayman. |
Poem finished: | 1st November 1999. |