Blamobilog's Last Return
A vessel most unfit for sea
Confounds the very shore
We hear that it is made of brie
Or swiss, with holes galore
Are rats on board? We do not know
They left to chase us out
One had the nerve to call me 'ho
We fought, but 'twas a rout
The vessel now is sinking fast
It happens when the rats
Decide it's time to eat the mast
Perhaps this line will be the last.
| Contributors: | Apsley, Roland, F, Kansas Sam, Karin. |
| Poem finished: | 14th October 2003 by Anon.. |