Please Let Us Pronounce Each Syllable Better
One for the money, two for joy
Rings from the old town clock
Since Hubert disembowelled the works
To break his writer's block
And thus the burghers do enjoy
A foaming stein of bock
Which their archbishop mighty irks
As tick turns into tock
Against all drinking is his face
Beyond the greaseproof fence
Since first he saw his uncle fall
And heaved the carcass thence
He hastened from that cursèd place
For he had common sense
Enough to breach the party wall
As pounds turn into pence
One for the honey, two for us
Three for the wheels on the ruined 'bus.
Prince-bishops used to ride in it
It shone with gems and gilt
From times before the honey failed
And newer hives were built
Yet substances supplied in it
Upon a satin quilt
Outshone their setting; they regaled
Each wearer of the kilt
| Contributors: | Beefy, Roland, Apsley, F. |
| Poem finished: | 9th December 2004 by Roland. |