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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Nonsense · #2259268
Parody of Lewis Carroll's 'Walrus & The Carpenter'
Though night it was, as clear as day,
The sun was in the sky
He raked the waves with all his rays
Which caused some fish to fry
Really he should not be there,
A fact you can't deny.

Pale the moon surfed, quite moodily,
she thought the sun so rude
To hide the stars was hardly fair
in truth, she came to brood
And he'll be tired tomorrow see
So unwise to intrude.

Salt and soggy the ocean and,
Desert dry, beach beside.
No rain fell from the cloud filled sky,
They'd all gone off to hide,
And left it clear for seagulls, who,
Invisible did glide.

The Small Bore and the Harbinger
Of soap and rope and cheese,
Were sobbing loud, because the beach,
Was sandy if you please!
“Someone should clear it all away
And put us at our ease.”

Suppose someone should sweep it clean,
They'd be so very kind.
“I'd like to think,” the Small Bore said,
“Someone is so inclined.”
“I somehow doubt it very much.”
The Harbinger opined.

The Cloisters were then invited,
The Small Bore asked them twice
If they should like to walk a while,
Which would be, very nice!
And converse, though not, all at once,
For just one would suffice.

The Abbot peered close at them both,
His lips were tightly sealed.
He gently shook his balding pate
As on the ground he kneeled.
Disinclination, obvious,
He clearly would not yield.

But younger Cloisters scampered to,
Make up a happy throng
Their toes were scrubbed, habit's washed
Eager to come along.
Though not one of them had a clue
That this was very wrong.

The Cloisters came out two by two,
Each held another's hand,
For one to be alone at all,
Was more than they could stand!
Each hopped and skipped across the beach,
In joyous jaunt unplanned.

The Small Bore and the Harbinger
Of gales and sails and wine,
Perambulated far and wide
Though nowhere that the sun did shine
And cheerily decried the sea,
Cursed the soft coastline.

“The time has passed,” they said at last,
To talk of anything,
“Of cabbage wax--- and callous snacks
And maybe ceiling string,
And why are moles so hairy?
And, what the dawn might bring.

“Hold on, please” the Cloisters shouted,
“We must rest for a while.”
“For our sandals are quite heavy,
We have walked for miles.”
“Rest you must.” said the Harbinger,
Which left them all in smiles.

Some loaves in kneed of butter bright,
And condiments besides
They filled their mouths with great delight
It barely touched the sides.
The Cloisters scarce had time to think,
How clear the pair had lied.

The Cloisters wailed, “You're so unkind,
To treat us in this way.”
For now they saw their horrid fate,
In fear and sharp dismay.
The Small Bore sang a nocturne bright
In tone, cruelly gay.

“Dear Cloisters thank you for your time,
So good of you to come.”
The Harbinger rudely shouted,
“I hope there's more to come.
You have eaten far more than half
I've hardly ate a crumb!”

“How naughty we,” the Small Bore sighed,
“To hoodwink monkish men."
“We've walked them for, miles and miles,
And so far from their den.”
“Your sandwiches are far too thick,
Please fill my plate again.”

The Small Bore expressed his sorrow
At making such a feast,
And loudly blew his nose because,
He didn't care the least!
The tears he shed were crocodile,
He munched another priest.

“O Cloisters,” said the Harbinger
Of locks and socks and foam,
“The time will surely come to pass
to set a course for home.”
The Cloisters gave no answer for,
Nothing was left but bone!

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