The Ageless Golden Fleece
My buddy, Moe, is getting old
And now that his new wife has sold
His cherished collection of brassieres
His rear's no longer in arrears
Turns out they were all made of gold
Midas wore them, now we're told
In light of nipple-gilding fears,
And dreading female Viking cheers,
It's strange he should have worn them
Not so strange he's sore then.
And so now Moe is moving on
First meeting up with old friend John
Then he'll say farewell to those
Who mocked him for his underclothes
A final goodbye to all his friends
He gave away his odds and ends
And then a cheery wave gave he
And chortled in his glee
| Contributors: | Francine, P, Kansas Sam, archaeopteryx, Hagfish, Nym, Karin, d, Anon.. |
| Poem finished: | 18th July 2003. |