This is what happens when I pressure myself to perform. The results are unpredictable and mildly humorous, yet oddly prolific...
Mary had a little lamb, she kept it in the fridge.
She fed it pork and cabbage she bought across the bridge.
And everywhere that Mary went she ate a pound of butter.
Her dresses gained a size each year, sidewalks began to shutter.
The lamb broke out and ran away and found a brand new life.
A house a car a kick’n job and a little wife.
Mary got so lonely she cried almost every day.
She ate the pork, she ate the cabbage, and even ate the tray.
She took a trip to see the lamb and begged him to come home.
He wouldn't, so she left and sadly she did roam.
So… Mary had a little lamb but butter rued the day
But if she had more pork and such maybe one would stay.
Mary had a little lamb, she kept it in the fridge.
She fed it pork and cabbage she bought across the bridge.
And everywhere that Mary went she ate a pound of butter.
Her dresses gained a size each year, sidewalks began to shutter.
The lamb broke out and ran away and found a brand new life.
A house a car a kick’n job and a little wife.
Mary got so lonely she cried almost every day.
She ate the pork, she ate the cabbage, and even ate the tray.
She took a trip to see the lamb and begged him to come home.
He wouldn't, so she left and sadly she did roam.
So… Mary had a little lamb but butter rued the day
But if she had more pork and such maybe one would stay.
1 comment:
great first poem. i didnt get the end. but im sure you were just tired. since it was posted at 1:27am i think you are the night poet.
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