'What happens to bad poets
when they die?'
'Aye, tis a good question,'
says the sotted brute
wavin his hand
whilst spittle flyin
with most syllables
'I yam told bad poets
stew in alphabet soup
and get eaten by
old grannies for
all eternity'
'I eard that one
but seems a waste
of good soup'
'Aye, and why de grannies
get involved it's a
misog misog
a ting against
women I'll bet'
'Well then, what might
you think?'
says the innkeeper
to the quiet sod
at the end of the bar
'Eh..I should think
they'd go with the good ones
cuz I'll be ******
if I can tell the difference'
'Aye' says all 'aye'


©2012 Lyn