Marinade Your Partner Daily
His passion was a restless sort
That often left him for a walk
And drank a meagre glass of port
Before emitting such a squawk
His ardour was a gloomy type
That talked morosely on a hike
Before announcing cut-price tripe
Should not be fed to hawk or shrike
His feeling was a touchy kind
That sulked when going for a climb
Or licking dry a lemon rind
And saw no reason in a rhyme
His moods, it's true, were funny things
They ran with nudges, jokes and winks
And knotted onions into strings
While offering to buy them drinks
Contributors: | Apsley, fester, dkb, Beefy. |
Poem finished: | 10th August 2001. |