One fine day as I surveyed my collection of collectibles,
There was a crack, thump-bang, while swallowing delectables.
No sooner had I turned my head, that
I spied on the periphery of bad vision,
Another oncoming really bad decision.
How will I thwart the beastly thought
to wander, to wane and not get caught?
Pontificating and deducing the alternatives here
I sweated through the panic and
Tornado of fear.
'Heavens to Murgatroyd! ”, (I thought as Curly would.)
If I'm not goin' bad, I'll be goin' good!
With a true will to resolve the dilemma before three,
I sought penitent forgiveness of all those who bore me.
Well, who in Spice Islands do I think I am?
So I chartered a red eye to the King of Siam.
He first greeted me with kindness, but very short-lived,
…And asked me “How much did that cost ya?
And whipped this poem with angel hair pasta...
Imagine right here is the place that I
lost ya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem