Pancreatic Recreations
Her bashfulness, though not innate
Can several fetishes quite sate,
The matador declared
But he was mother to a sow
And uncle to the Holy Cow
That sat and simply stared
Infractions, on the Villlage Green
Quite close to here, upset a bean
Athwart the cauldron's brink
She hesitated, then threw out
Each vestige of her former doubt
Into a pool of Ink
Yet why condemn the mirror's gaze?
Why write sonnets on the beize?
Why regret the end of days?
| Contributors: | Surlaw, Apsley, Shipp. |
| Poem finished: | 16th November 2001. |