Petulant and pouty
Prideful and stank
They raised their goblets
Tilted them upwards,
and then they did drank
Giggling were the bridesmaids
Mirthful was the bride
She stood there so elegant
And beaming with pride
Her mensch in a dungeon
As he wished to be bludgeon
With hammer and claw
His groomsmen stood listless
But laughing in awe
It wasn't his attire
It was rather what he said
Sounding so Fuddian
Wit dis wing, I dee wed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem