Sire, Sire!
Sire, Sire
Your pants are on fire
And the flame is flying higher!
Dive in the well
While I ring the bell
And find the town Friar!
Sire, Sire
Try not to tire,
Just hold onto the wire!
What's that funny smell,
It's the Sire in the well
And I think it's rising higher!
Sire, Sire
Come and meet the Friar,
He's waiting beneath the spire!
Listen very well
Or you'll go to hell
And you'll be back on fire!
Joy Weare.
27th October, 2006.
...just a bit of rhyming nonsense...
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
poet7925 |
|
|
|