Knighthood For Those In Direst Destitution
I chanced upon a shouting match
When in the park I strolled
With nosy itch, in need of scratch,
Which, scarcely uncontrolled,
Had caused me to concoct a batch
Of highly potent mould
And this I daubed on one whose yells
I deemed to be the worst
I reckoned trhat the noxious smells
Meant something bad had burst
Forth like repressed Southern belles
In dread of speaking first
He fell to earth, as if struck dumb
As if, in deepest dream
His only choice was to succumb
And stifle every scream
As all his senses turned to numb
The paupers of East Cheam
The sudden hush drew quite a crowd
Of lawyers smelling tort
Who raised their hats and stiffly bowed
While slavering for sport
I almost felt a trifle proud
To take them all to court
The case attracted quite a stir
Amongst the gutter press
Who strove to find out who we were
And why we looked a mess
We told them we could all aver
Some shouted second guess
And when we stood before the judge
Where silence was the norm
The park officials would not budge
But shouted out 'Bad form!'
The judge asked, 'What's that smelly smudge?'
We cried: 'You're getting warm!'
But as the heat began to rise
The mould began to grow
And then, before our very eyes,
It doffed its smart chapeau
And, as it shed its quaint disguise
The bailiff cried: "Oh, no!"
"Oh yes!" the mighty voice replied
It suddenly grew dark
My itching nose for scratching cried
I wished I'd left that park
And left Tim Leary's stuff untried
That yielded truths so stark
| Contributors: | Kansas Sam, Apsley, Amste R, F, Beefy, Grayman, Roland, P, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 16th August 2004 by Kansas Sam. |