A yellow bellie
How more nobly shall I treat this man
He came, wearing that one yashmak of cowardice
Clothed, that one yellow streak un-dirigible
A queerly grin he wore, a yarmulke
Worn to shield away his mental baldness
And then he yammers over a pain
As does the wife of a yahoo
At nothing grave nor particular does he turn a-wroth
And so wroth as he was wrong-headed.
He, much of a baked batter
Eaten with roast beef
Like the Yorkshire pudding
Comically idiotic, crazily ridiculous
Weakly acquiescent a man
And how badly it goes
That he hath gone wool gathering
A yellow bellie.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a nice poem, E. J. A. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.