Sparklingly Devoid Of Interest
"What is a thruttock?" questioned Sam
When everyone had gone
"Is it an animal? Or jam?
Or part of Babylon?"
We didn't know, and so we said
It was a kind of fish
That lived on land, and often fed
The likes of Lillian Gish
On silver plates in silent films
in empty cinemas
Where usherettes with lovely limbs
Compare their duelling scars
The happy little sound of beans
Is not as 'thruttock' known
You often hear it from your jeans
When you are left alone
It's like a baby motor-bike
If I may thus digress
Though when it's closer to the mike
It's simply flatulence
Thus, in confusion, all must end
With friendly little sounds
A Thruttock is a man's best friend
And smelliness abounds
| Contributors: | Hamish, Roland, Grayman, fester, ellie, Hamaish, loaf, Apsley. |
| Poem finished: | 14th June 2000. |