i hear the sound of ghostly feet
plodding down the town's main street.
Hush! Hush! I cry as it draws near
And we all shiver in great fear.
Then it's squelch squelch squelch
And an awesome belch
And a strangulated curse
But not, I think, in verse,
As the feet hit cloying mud.
Things aint too good
As I exclaim
Poor Poey Munter's stuck again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh. My. Gosh! You had a Poe thing going on there! ! ! ! I was getting that crawly feeling to my skin. And then... and then... it was the attack of the Tom Billsborough Humor Monster! ! ! Run! Run! Run! There is no telling what that LOL will do next! ! ! ! Tom, I have found your subjects are varied, your emotions a tapestry, your skills exceptional. Shoot, I even like your sense of humor. 10+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thanks, Susan. I don't think Poey has quite gotten unstuck yet. Maybe send a Cowboy with a lasso and haul him out. We've retired to the bar for a conflab and comfort drinking!