A Cautionary Pome for Christmas, penned by Yours Truly...
|copyright: Paul Bommer|
Despite all caution'ry shouts,
Vast quantities would massacre
Of that small, hard, green brassica
And then suffer from flatulent bouts.
Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that does fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong, Hark! Now I hear them – Ding-dong, bell.
(The Tempest, W. Shakespeare)