|
100,000,000,000,000 poems
When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
That suede ferments is not at all well known
They both are right not untamed mutterings
With sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
The nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
And let you off from your opinions glum
For Europe's glory while Fate's harpies strum
|