I can no longer ignore
That you are a bore
Your voice just goes on and on
Every single word or phrase
Seems to last for days!
You must be some kind of con!
They told me with awe
A word I abhor
That your timing is perfect. Sublime.
Yet you blunder about
Like some country lout
Whose totally lost their mind
Your voice they raised high
Huh, pigs might fly!
It curdles the brain to hear
A word of advice
In your ear if I might
Don’t stray from the octave my dear
If you may be so kind
And it’s been on my mind
Consider how one should walk
You waddle about stage
Like some duck on parade
Or stride like some kind of stork
From where I sit
Pease don’t have a fit
Your head is abnormally large
Wearing those clothes
And standing in that pose
It floats on your neck like a barge
Try to understand
I’m offering you my hand
I’m telling you for your own good
It’s better to see
How awful you can be!
It’s like talking to a block of wood!
© AM Hunter 2016
Green and Grey 