Turnips

by

Stephen Cree

Turnip feast, turnip feast
Bastock stuffs a gut full
burpy turns to gassy leak
Bastock looking doleful.

Home he trot to see wife, Dot
says "Clean blasters I desire"
Dot say "You mucky Bastock
I'll wang 'em on the fire".

Burning pants a fumey choke
descends upon the kitchen
"May as well have baked a turd"
say Dottie still abitchin'

Bastock lopey off akip
two by beds they lie in
Bastock bottie windy blow
the duvet goes aflyin'

Bastock cork in sphincter shove
to stop his bum achuffin'
one comes up and cork pops out
hits Dottie in her muffin

Dottie yell plays bloody hell
Bastock runs for cover
deep regret of turnip feast
he'll never chomp another.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Watergate and Adscam Hearings
by: James Bredin
from: Toronto, ON, CA

To visit all of Stephen Cree's poems, click HERE

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