Pal the micky finly flock
As mill the glow a bisky Rock
And all the brush as pink
as be
Awash the mulsk and
broostum sea
Waiting among the flushion
trees
Hiding from the honey bees
Swelping a clust of single
malt
To calm the mind to a
tempelious Halt
Tell the rusbar of the
drust
And the treasure of which
men talk and lust
But the grimble curse will
bright its way
Mens hands will not on the
treasure play
The grimble curse means
certain death
A unresting pleasium and man's last breath
So tether the hills and
snit the jib
And sail away across the
nib
To tell the tale of the
plested Gold
So far yet so close in
your hands to hold
And beareth the grue and
slip the flue
Better to live than
scrimple in stew
So heed the tale and walk
in gloom
Than smickle riches
and the path
of Doom
That poem was as cool as fiddlers fiddle, but did you know that you can't spell pirates without a RAT in the middle.
ReplyDeleteWell Cool!
I have not thought about Pirates and RATs Mr H.
DeleteI am glad you liked the poem I was thinking of doing a few more based on the same idea. in other words based on almost gibberish.
Oooooo tomorrow is a big big day indeed. Hopefully I will get to write about it tomorrow evening.
Ah, Mr. Rob!
ReplyDeleteMost interesting. I felt like I was reading a bit of Willie Shakespeare who was like tripping on some sort of intoxicating medication. Nicely done, my surreal friend.
Gary
Thank you Mr G it is not often I get compared to a drug crazed Shakespeare. I feel I may be heading in the right direction with my writing.
Delete