Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Welsh Watermelons

Zack and Phil made burgs on the grill
And fell prey to sonorous laughter
'Cause shacks were few and slacks were lewd
In the beach town of Gringrosher
And there they stayed with sweet summery bouquets
Sprawling gardens rich with floppy farters
Who smelled like roses on decorative coffins 
Of long dead and forgotten corpses
There in the sand lay a pebble so grand
For it spoke and sounded sharper
Than any other pebble if there were any other
That bespoke and made one slaughter

1 comment:

  1. classic!
    i love the spring (not implying season) in the verses and the surprise in every rhyme
    One could skip to this.
    toiiiiink toinkkk.
    somebody says it's "insanely funny!"
    (aaaah! now i get it!)