My No Nonsense Dream
A Roland and an Oliver!
Too stout to comb the skies!
They stand there like to elephants
With jewel-encrusted thighs
Roland blows his horn Olivant
To make the skies resound
The veins are pulsing in his neck
And tremors in the ground
Remind the traitor Ganelon
That Charlemagne's army comes
to capture all the minstrels
Except those playing drums
Oliver with a minstrel!
A minstrel stout as he!
They stand there like twin towers,
A sight no man should see
As Oliver's great hordes roll on
To massacre and death
They marched to Heights most Golan
solely fueled on crystal meth.
Oliver wore his fearsome garters
And terrified his foes
By taking them off, for starters
To make them suck his toes.
For Oliver had a foot fetish,
Insatiable was he.
From his tent could often be heard strange sounds
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
His largest toe was oversized,
His small one was pointed
The ones between were painted green,
His forehead was anointed
With a glyph of ancient portent
It granted powers vast
as those possessed by Hortense!
A chocolate Bath Oliver
to honon thee!
A cheese Roland a pint
wibble
wobble
THE END!
ENVOI:
| Contributors: | fester, Roland, Beefy, Stacy Alexander, dkb, spaceman's, Carl Marks, kidlacan, kidlacan., jamesy, Anon., Grayman, E Greejius. |
| Poem finished: | 19th November 2002. |