Billiards, or Might My Love Be Undying?
Bianca grabbed me by the throat, and said I was a little stoat:
But I'm a weasel through and through - I'm not a stoat at all, thank you!
She didn't think a lot of that - she said I was a stupid prat
She pulled my tail and pinched my nose - she even stood upon my toes
But even through the tears of pain I could not think my love was vain
I told her once, I told her twice, I even thought to tell her thrice
But then she threw me down the stairs - I wonder if she really cares?
For every time she flees the nest I have to rinse her rancid vest,
And darn the holes in all her tights - no wonder I can't sleep at nights!
For every time she calls my name I have to take our lord in vain,
And pray in hope that He will save me from this lonely deadly grave.
But even as my prayers rise, I see that look within here eyes
Which says she'll find her cricket-bat, and hit me very hard with that
Bianca hit me on the head and left me there as good as dead:
And then she brought her friends to watch her cruelly kick me in the crotch
My vitals shattered and exploded, make her think she was loaded
Then, heedless of my anguished cries, she poked her fingers in my eyes
Out popped an eyeball, which she caught, and now my sight is really short
She said she didn't care a jot, she'd just go sailing on her yacht
Contributors: | Apsley, Hamish, TG, B, Beefy, dkb, Anastasia, fester. |
Poem finished: | 24th April 2001. |