ROAD KILL
There was a shallow young man from Old
Lyme,
Begged a young woman's company to dine;
He then dressed in his best,
Undershorts and a vest;
They arrived at the restaurant
at nine.
The Host said they were exceedingly late,
But they would surely prepare them a
plate,
The Chef had a plan,
How to feed this young man,
And the bearded woman he'd
brought as his date.
An aroma came from the
kitchen,
Like old sneakers and sulphur, 'twas
bitchin'
But with much banging and
clatter,
They prepared them a
platter,
That would soon have both of them twitchin'.
They were served Roast Crow a la mode,
Freshly scraped from the middle of the
road,
Along with two juicy stuffed cats,
Plus three pickled bats,
And a boiled villianous old
toad.
They ordered a bottle of
wine,
The cheapest that came from the
vine.
It had been squeezed t'wixt the
toes,
Of a naked lady named
Rose,
Who weighed in at three hunred and
nine.
It was not the meal they had eagerly
sought,
But for two bits what else can be bought?
Merely the suggestion,
Brings on indigestion,
But clean platers always do what
they’re taught.
They finished their dinners...excited,
For which the Chef should surely be
Knighted;
Sated, they went to their Glory,
Bringing a sad end to my
story,
Now aren't you just thoroughly
delighted?
Copyright 2003 Revised
2006 |