Friday, 30 March 2018

Poetry for the Cheesy Snipe

Peter picked 
A pilly pipe 
A porty pry 
And a cheesy Snipe 
And ate them 
All very fast 
To ensure At finishing 
He was not last 
However 

No one should rush 
A porty pry 
They can make you rather sick 
A chap could die.

And now Peter growns
In his bed 
Covered in blotches 
that are 
Large

and

RED