The bookbinder, the barrister, the cheat.
Commutation, compensation, low deceit.
Journeymen full worth their price,
For they had looked it over once or twice.
Then they brewed a blog of love and hatred,
Sussing the overfed and the overrated.
Contemplating council fixers,
And criticizing Dorothy Dixers.
Sussing the overfed and the overrated.
Contemplating council fixers,
And criticizing Dorothy Dixers.
Then they looked down upon the blogs they'd made
Scorned with crisp words and smug charade.
And packing it all up to the breech
The spewed it forth each one to each.
And resultant carnage was never mentioned.
But the cheat was tired of the cards he played,
And laid his drowsy words to rest in the shade.
The bookbinder, the barrister, without a clue,
One could never spot when they were through.
To the eye they were well intentioned.
by Michael DeVore
Scorned with crisp words and smug charade.
And packing it all up to the breech
The spewed it forth each one to each.
And resultant carnage was never mentioned.
But the cheat was tired of the cards he played,
And laid his drowsy words to rest in the shade.
The bookbinder, the barrister, without a clue,
One could never spot when they were through.
To the eye they were well intentioned.
by Michael DeVore
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