Found among the papers of our AWOL dragon poet.
From the big Lonely Mountain, up to the North Pole,
That warm Christmas spirit is stirring my soul.
While fair maidens come flocking
To peek in their stockings.
All Yijits will get is black coal.
Santa wants to know it's okay.
That we run interference for his sleigh.
So gladly we'll serve
If you've got the nerve
To ride and hold tight all the way.
We'll cover all lands and stratifications,
And provide all the nymphos with gratification.
And much, to my fear,
I've discovered here
Not much doth do rhyme with stratification.
The mean knights we will not go bating,
Nor enemies will we be berating.
And upon this long flight
On Christmas Eve night
Beneath the mistletoe we must find you waiting.
I hope next year finds you quite fine, if not better.
And next spring in the tire swing, we'll be warmer and wetter.
But I really must go,
For if you must know.
I'm just about all out of letters.
2007-12-10
02:05:59
·
17 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous