Tell me a tale of pigs-in-pokes
and beans and groats
and all took slow to market.
Where Jack falls down
like a ribald fool clown
and Jill is broke thereafter.
Yes, tell me please,
because I sit here ill-at-ease
and everyone, it seems, agrees:
the dish just ran away from the spoon.
Thank you for reading Doggerel. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.
© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.