Once again, apologies for the latesies. I forgot yesterday was Monday. Whooooops. That's not true. In reality, I got distracted. But here we are anyway, with this weeks rhyme.
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
They all began to sing.
Now, wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before the King?The King was in his countinghouse,
Counting out his money;
The Queen was in the parlor
Eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes.
Along there came a big black bird...
readygo.
"Plutocracy sure blows!"
ReplyDelete(guess I'll cede the crown after only a week....*sigh*)
With a pie cherry still stuck up its nose.
ReplyDeleteWith a digital SLR camera, and asked me to pose
ReplyDeleteBart wants this to rhyme, I suppose
ReplyDeleteand sprayed her with a hose...
ReplyDeletecue the cheesy seventies wah wah music,
and enter a man with a big moustache,
'your all wet miss'
that was tagged with a research receiver from National Geographic as it was one of the few remaining due to the recent blackbird pie fad. The maid, upon seeing the blackbird called for the cook who came forth and, luring the bird to him with some sesame seeds, and captured it for a future supper. The researchers noticed the constancy of the locator and sent forth an investigator. Arriving at the castle, the investigator was appalled to discover numerous violations. There was Panda stew, smoked albatross, not to mention the stuffed tigers. The King was brought to court, sued, and in lieu of jail-time paid through the nose.
ReplyDeleteAnd dropped a deuce upon her nose
ReplyDeleteDessert was Crow Surprose.
ReplyDeleteAnd threatened to foreclose.
That's all. I'm otiose.