Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Knish poetry with Mustard on the side.



And if you ever reconsider
you will get no chicken dinner

And if there is a place in time
you will not find not foot nor rhyme

And do come now I won't be long
for I am late to ring my gong

And don't you waste your good knish
or I will cut you like a snitch

So write your books and read your poem
oh that is Bob I hardly know 'em
 

5 comments:

ndspinelli said...

That mustard would end up on my shirt. You can always tell when I've eaten mustard.

MamaM said...

Fried on Knish.

MamaM said...

Gosh, ND, if you're still around, what stopped you from stating the next logical conclusion over at Lem's and noting that not only was Trooper up in the morning, he was also probably pooping? That and singing with Annie about tomorrow.

Trooper York said...

Annie and poop go together. In fact mentioning Annie and Poop is kind of redundant doncha think?

MamaM said...

The whole thing went together!
What's left to say but "Dude!"?