I am nasty and rotten to the core
they didn’t call me dodgy for nothing.
I run about and shout a lot;
recently I took lessons on how to be a bitch,
now they call me a son of one.
I can swear like a trooper,
but only when no one is around
after all I’m supposed to be a vicar
with a smiling frown.
Believe it or not this is the real me,
a hairy ape hanging around in a tree.
Some will dispute my claim,
but they don’t know me at all.
I’m really nasty and rotten to the core
that even my wrinkles
are afraid of me.
30 January 2008
Evil to the core, showering us with poetry until we yell please no more, or is that maybe plese sir can we have some more.. Andy: -) 10
Brilliant; but I hope it isn't true about the Vicar part...lol. Even so honesty is a good virtue they say. Thanks. Craig.
I enjoyed your poem and I hope you don't strain anything while hanging on those trees, try not to bruise your knuckles too bad, all my sympathy to your wrinkles, and please keep writing, because I enjoy the reading. Peace, L&T P.S. We may all be a bit dodgy at the core.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Now come on David, cheer up my friend, things can be that bad! ! ! ! ! Your just having a down day, that's all. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX