The Spoonbill Generator

While All Those Has-Beens Dance

A brass ring through the eye-lid [Apsley]

From which depends a bell [Surlaw]

May not impede your vision, [Apsley]

Or damp your sense of smell [Surlaw]

But, in the dim cold future, [Apsley]

'Twill sunder every suture [Surlaw]

That a surgeon skilled may tie [Apsley]

Is not in question; yet we judge [Surlaw]

Some would still it question, [Apsley]

To subvert the ancient grudge [Surlaw]

Since mildew beat down bacon [Apsley]

When abject oaths were taken [Surlaw]

And so, athwart the village-pump, [Apsley]

And twice around the green [Surlaw]

With hint of all misprision [Apsley]

Unruly and obscene [Surlaw]

The old saw-bones doth wend his way [Apsley]

Between the dawn and break-of-day [Surlaw]

He goes off to The Cottage [Apsley]

Whence all but he have fled [(trad)]

Because of his ingestion [Apsley]

Despite his daily bread [Surlaw]

Of half-forgotten produce, [Apsley]

For Up Yours Mates and Sod Yous [Surlaw]

Do populate his speaking. [Apsley]

His gestures – nay, his life – [Surlaw]

Is rampant indecision, [Apsley]

Despite his fearsome wife [Surlaw]

Who keeps a tidy midships [Apsley]

He suffers many mischiefs [shipp]


Contributors: Apsley, Surlaw, (trad), shipp.
Poem finished: 24th July 2002.