Otherworldly Newsagent With Or Without Croutons
A surgeon addicted to soup
Recorded himself on a loop
He kept saying 'More'
Till the chef declared war
And brought out his tiniest scoop:
"You'll get no more soup here today!"
Unless you are willing to pay
Two hundred per cent
And then to relent
By adding a 'Please' to your bray
"More croutons!" the surgeon replied
But the wily old chef had just lied -
"You'll forfeit your job,
You greedy old slob
From the depths of the vanishing tide"
At this point the surgeon let fly
Malignant disdain in his eye
He clobbered the cook
With a cookery book
And the crust from a Cumberland pie
At this, his employers took note
They rushed him to Ear, Nose and Throat
They tore out his tongue
And took out his best lung
And christened him Denizen Groat
The rest of the tale you can guess
The poor bloke's a bit of a mess
He's forfeit his post
To the friend of a ghost
So much for the new NHS
| Contributors: | loaf, Apsley, Roland, Beefy, Kansas Sam, PeterWRC, Grayman. |
| Poem finished: | 26th March 2004 by Anon.. |