|
100,000,000,000,000 poems
He bent right down to pick up his valise
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
One gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
Filching the lolly country thrift helped save
The learning linguist cameramaniac sings
For burning bushes never fish forgave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
And starve the sniveling baby like a dog
While homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
Fried grilled black pudding's still the world's best yum
|