Big, Dangerous Camel
A feather riding high upon a wave of breeze
Resembles nothing more than my old mother's knees,
She's old and fat and wrinkled and she raises bees:
They say they like the altitude, when put up in the trees.
Mother likes currant buns, and never will eat meat
Although she likes to lay it upon her clumsy feet,
oft on tuesdays you'll find her scream
The words of some forgotten theme
and dance amongst the fairy grass
Where pigeons fret, alas
| Contributors: | dan, Apsley, fester, melody. |
| Poem finished: | 1st May 2002. |