On top of the battlements
Boiling up oil
Two armour clad knights
Became weary of toil
So they sent a young serf
For some spuds, here he cries
Then peeled them with daggers
And all had French fries
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good Poem! Is Jason Kin? Linda