.8. My Fusty Crusty Cob Poem by David Threadgold

Sitting in the bread bin
Now making penicillin
The crusty cob I bought last week
That cost me just a shilling

I didn’t see the mould spots
When I sliced the ends so crusty
The butter didn’t help a lot
And it’s after taste was fusty

Both crusts went down in no time
With a dish of fruit and jelly
In half an hour my belt got tight
It had swollen up my belly

I had to call the doctor
When I started feeling sick
He said he could be quite a while
So I told him make it quick

I started with a fever
Now feeling really ill
The doctor called and looked at me
And left me just one pill

You have to clear your system
From the poison that’s inside
But when this pill begins to work
Leave all doors open wide

The pill went down with water
Then I shot up automatic
Like a greyhound to the bathroom
Making everything look static

It really cleared my system
But the bathroom made me sob
And I don’t think I will ever eat
Another crusty cob


© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes