Night Thoughts
When o'er the willows whipporwills
Cry softly in the dusk
Their sobs will yield to hipper thrills
They've gobbled all the Gipper's pills
With half the rye that Tipper swills
And chew'd upon the rusk
They smack into the windowpanes
And plummet to the earth
And nothing but their cry remains
While on the glass, those bloody stains
From where the birdies beaned their brains
Give squirrels no end of mirth
They fall into the chipper chute
Emerge as crimson straw
Their shards, though like the Gipper: mute
Are snorted up like Tipper's toot
Though shoddy sub for hipper fruit
From Shangri-la-de-da
| Contributors: | Kevin Andrew Murphy, Juan of the Pines, Kansas Sam, Nym, dkb, Chevalier, Helen Owly. |
| Poem finished: | 16th June 2006 by Chevalier. |