This poem has a point,
That is honed at it's end.
For murder is most foul,
So let us not pretend.
A body in the ballroom,
Dear departed in the billiard room.
Dead meat in the dining room,
These rooms are all a tomb.
Late lamented in the library,
A stiff in the study.
A carcass in the cellar,
This house so vile and bloody.
A corpse in the conservatory,
Now deceased in the hall.
And a goner in the study.
Cruel Cluedo does enthral!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely rhyming scheme and sense of rhythm, which is surprisingly uncommon to come across on this website.
Thanks Bryony for your kind and generous comment. And you're right about rhythm and rhyme. It's like a forgotten lost art. Oh, well! That's life! Take care and enjoy life.