Poet’s corner

The wind was rough
And cold and blough.
She kept her hands within her mough.
It chilled her through,
Her nose turned blough,

And still the squal the faster flough –
And yet, although There was no snough,
The weather was a cruel fough.
It made her cough,
Please do not scough,
She coughed until her hat blough ough.

A fellow they call Aloysius
Of his wife and a gent grew suspysius
And as quick as a wink
Found the two by the sink
But they only were doing the dysies

A merchant addressing a debtor
Remarked in the course of his lebtor
That he chose to suppose
A man knose what he ose;
And the sooner he pays it the bebtor

There once was a man who for hiccough
Tried all of the cures he could piccough,
And the best without doubt,
As at last he found ouht,
Is warm water and salt in a ticcough

3 comments for “Poet’s corner

  1. April 20, 2017 at 09:19

    Kept her hands within her muff? This is approaching porn.

  2. Chuckles
    April 20, 2017 at 09:32

    Mough.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *