A Letter To The Times Poem by Roy Ballard
A Letter To The Times
Cuckolds, cuckolds all, rejoice!
For I have stilled the mocking voice
of that usurper of the nest,
that burglar with the black-barred chest,
that paedophile upon the wing:
the earliest cuckoo of the spring.
The cuckoo called; I know you hate him;
I caught and killed and cooked and ate him.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: funny
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Poems By Roy Ernest Ballard
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4/23/2024 10:40:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
