Where are Nelson's Aubergines?
I put my trousers in the press
a nasty crease to mend
Now dwarves crowd round to read my legs
And learn about my friend
They avidly scan every line
With eyes the size of pennies
And will not go away - the swine -
Despite my spinning-jennies
Which I keep with me all the time
In gyroscopic joy
A feeling lost on dwarvish-kind
Be they just man or boy
My trousers are quite neat and prim
Sartorially grand.
I keep them clean with Flash and Vim
Applied with careful hand.
I crease the seams precicely
To bring the dwarves to me.
I fold the turn-ups nicely
As you can plainly see.
Next time the Elves will press them
And turn them into gold,
and like the trousers secret seam the beauty will unfold
Contributors: | Apsley, Will, fester, Roland, Stacy Alexander, Carl Marks, Grayman, dkb, keith c, billy. |
Poem finished: | 27th December 2002. |