The Lament of my Square Informal Tusks
The sergeant sighed as his steely gaze
Was captured by the magnet
He sighed another sigh as he gathered back his eye
And dangled, with his dragnet,
Where knees may safely graze
But then he met with a frosty stare
Which chilled his nascent ardour
His very being froze, and the icing on his nose
Turned hard as stone, or harder
Beneath that icy glare
"Your Majesty, I would not presume
To abnegate your duties
Nor challenge your domain for however long you reign,
Nor vilify your beauties:
I pray you, do not fume!"
The Monarch, taut with a lofty sneer
Dismissed the quaking yeoman
Who, spinning round to go, tumbled headlong in the snow
And uttered something Roman
Shivering with fear.
The revolution was bound to come
Foreshadowed by its comet
Which, hurtling through the skies, brought a tremor to our eyes
And a tendency to vomit
To which all men succumb
So the sergeant sighed, as his iron fist
Got waterlogged and rusted
And he rounded on the crowd, who were singing rather loud
(These peasants can't be trusted)
And bellowed forth, "Desist!"
The crowd grew still as the King appeared
Quite ill-at-ease and troubled
Their lives were all at stake, for they hadn't brought a cake
So the price of bread had doubled
Just like the sergeant's beard
And thus it was; and I can't pretend
It makes exciting reading
If you find it bad, pleas try The Iliad
But, as for this proceeding,
Let's bring it to an end.
| Contributors: | TG, Roland, P. |
| Poem finished: | 5th August 2002. |