Oh dear boy, many is the morn
When in this dreary world I cast
My eyes up to the sky's forlorn
And bleak frown - then I break my fast;
A bowl of dreams, a spoon of joy
Nadir to Zenith sweeps my heart -
My fickle heart is but the toy
Of soggy last and sweet crisp start.
And when you clock that milky splash
Cascade from the perfect angle,
Don't be shocked to see me flash
And in the bowl my tackle dangle.
Such, lad, is my dawn agenda
With such spice I can taste perfection
(the spice - of course - a pinch of smegma);
Now would you like a bit of Alpen?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
i do love this agenda/smegma rhyming couplet.
ReplyDelete