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The Two Line Poem Game (no word limit)
He's not the same Rocky played by Sly Stallone,The boxer who ended up owning only one cojone?
It's a good question I'll give it a whirl,This Rocky is a gray flying squirrel.
At my prep school "a squirrel" was the cruellest of cuts,Because it was what one boy did to another's nuts.
This kind of activity we should prohibit,Each of those boys needs to lick that habit.
Mostly it was controlled by plenty of physical trainingEspecially if the day was cold and it was raining.
Raining days are nice for dreaming of a boy band...and even if you don't play tennis work on your backhand.
To get a boy band together is such a hassle,Especially if it's in a pile of mud they're to rassle.
And making them do exercise, all muscles enhancing.Then they can show off on Strictly Come Dancing.
Hey Ije! Hallo!There they go, salsa, mambo, tango and their wives,
Cha cha, pasa doble, and here's Willy and his hand jives.
Hi Roger :)To the left to the right, to the right to the left
All very fleet footed and amazingly deft!
The compère too is fleet of foot and doesn't think twiceTo wave at the audience: "Nice to see ya; to see ya, nice."*
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UohOu...
[Roger's https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UohOu... is inane and insane, I can't believe I watched that for over a minute.]The audience looks so grand given their paper hats,
Now they all look like batty aristocrats.
But are aristocrats truly batty?I think they are probably very chatty.
Not so sure ’bout that, aristos are certainly nattyIn their attire, but their conversation is all catty.
[Really really sorry, Preston. It should have come with a health warning, but at least you don't have to put up with it every week on Strictly Come Dancing… mind, Brucie has just finally retired, aged 122… or something)
Oh well we can but hope for the best.And hope all the aristos flee the nest.
I am hoping for the best andcraving an aristocratic boy band.
Meet good Sir Boy Band and the Earls,There band is Throw Swine Before Pearls.
The lyrics are okay but the tunes are a swizz,All they ever sing about is a mouthful of—
mmmmnnffh
Sir Boy is the lead singer of this noble, highborn group,He can sing and move his hips as if he had a hula hoop.
Are you telling me they're a bunch of aristocratic rappersWho go around dressed like a ballroom of 1920s flappers?
No, I am not telling you a thing,Just listen for yourself and hear the lads sing.
Oh that's lyrical, it rises on the air like a wish,I am starving and could do with some chips and fish
"I say old boy are they not called fish and chips?Either way they make one lick ones fingertips."
You are quite right and I like mine with saltAnd a hefty helping of vinegar made from malt.
Ours comes with oodles of tartar sauce on a bun,You need lots of napkins because dripping is so much fun.
The fish is great 'cause it's deep fried in oil,gets all brown when the oil comes to a boil.
I like mine all covered in batterEven though it makes me a lot fatter.
What could be better than fish filets,covered in a cup of mayonnaise?
Then thrown on a sesame seed bun,Oh how Burger Doodle is so much fun.
That sounds like our horse-meat burger scandalA filly o' fish in a bun, a right fantod and fandandle.
Burger Doogle uses catfish caught at the pier,They never use horsefish that would be queer.
True, there's nothin' like catfish caught on a line,baked in a pie* and knocked back with a glass of wine.
*a pie has to have a top and a bottom
But what about pecan pie and pumpkin pie and key lime?They don't have tops but they're favorites of mine.
Anything baked without a pastry top partIs technically nothing less than a tart.*
*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tart
Thank goodness for graham cracker crust,Easy to make and great to degust.
I'll place it on my key lime tart,And then it's a pie, for the most part.
That's it! Be generous and never meanWhen it comes to baking great cuisine.
Like my pie made from cheese and thin ham,Designed to greatly please the inner man.
Like my pie from Seville Row cooked up in a pan,Designed to please the outer man.
Like my pie made up of markups and challan,Designed to please the middleman.
Or something we don't have in England, an English MuffinWhich if you eat too many, will leave you a-puffin'.
In America we have American cheese,It's made of oil and gunk and greaze.
I'd advise against eating it, or it'll make you groan,Doesn't sound like the stuff my mother'd use for her cheese scone.
My mother's meals were prize winners—Homecooked frozen TV dinners.
Were the prize winners "eat in" or "takeaway"Or the sort that hang from your ears on a tray?
They used to hang on your car door from a tray,And the the waitress would roller skate away.
I love Marconi and cheese with heart and soul and every bit of me,It gives me long-distance radio and telegraphs all the way from Italy.
And there's me, preferred my takeaway from AT&T,But Ma Bell was so much better when it came to Marconi.
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