Why Are Doughtnuts Delicious?
From my window, I can see
That bumbling fool they call Beefy
I wonder why he's in such haste
Is he being pursued by miniature yorkshire puddings?
Did they not know he could be so two-faced?
The fool runs on, his pants fall down -
No doubt this explains his frown
And as he's lying on the ground
Are those crispy roast potatoes I spy?
Don't they see that the gravy's coming round?
Oh! Were I such a happy fool
With buttered parsnips , tumblers cool
And endless leisure time to waste
And maybe just a little bit of horseradish sauce?
I would not fester here, alone, displaced
The fool arises, to no end -
He tumbles to the ground again
He makes a kind of moaning sound
Mustard, English mustard, that's what we need isn't it?
In times of greatest need, it can't be found!
Contributors: | Beefy, fester, P, snood, Kansas Sam, Karin. |
Poem finished: | 20th August 2003. |