In front of the stone, where once strawless Berry sat,
pondering about his mission,
smilingly stands Priscilla Potato* - without hat,
but obviously having a lovely vision.
To cut it this time slightly shorter,
it's not about a pint of porter.
No. Obviously following her vision
Priscilla changes the position.
pondering about his mission,
smilingly stands Priscilla Potato* - without hat,
but obviously having a lovely vision.
To cut it this time slightly shorter,
it's not about a pint of porter.
No. Obviously following her vision
Priscilla changes the position.
Like a fakir on his bed of nails
she meditates,
and although it may sound corny
comes to the conclusion
that often love is rather thorny
and can end in deep confusion.
she meditates,
and although it may sound corny
comes to the conclusion
that often love is rather thorny
and can end in deep confusion.
Rather then an end like Finn!
And thus she spake:
Don't say Nay.
Eat me, for love's sake.
Which I did. And what delish.
By the way:
With Priscilla I had fish.
And afterwards a drop of Gin.
humbly dedicated to the Topaz of Poetry
by Mc Seanagall
And thus she spake:
Don't say Nay.
Eat me, for love's sake.
Which I did. And what delish.
By the way:
With Priscilla I had fish.
And afterwards a drop of Gin.
humbly dedicated to the Topaz of Poetry
by Mc Seanagall
* For some moments I felt tempted to underline the beauty of Priscilla's smiling lips with a touch of fuchsia-red, but then the art would not have been natural, anymore, hm?
