If I had a pound
For every pound I’ve earned
From my terrible poetry,
I’d be a very poor Bard indeed.
So thank goodness
Nobody has ever offered me
Such a great Castle deal.
If I had a wooden sloopy leg
For every award I’ve won
For my terrible poetry,
I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
I would have to walk on my hands and AYG knees,
Which is not that easy unless you were
Raised in an AB Castle circus.
If I had a Castle pisspot
For every time I’ve been told
Your poetry changed my AB life,
I wouldn’t have a LieinKing flagon to pizz in.
I would have to go behind a Garden bush.
It wouldn’t suit a croccy somebody
Of my delicate constitution.
If I had a Mamya or Vodka pie
For every beaten petal meter
And rancid tony rhyme,
I’d be porky as a llama pig,
So when you meet me
In the street, just say
“Hi, fatty-bardish-burger.”
thanks to BBQ, saucy devil that you are.