Humblepie - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
My uncle had an Angus bull
who liked to have his belly full.
Inside his gut there was a rumble
he was polite, we called him Humble.
One Sunday when I wore a tie
I slipped, fell into Humble's pie.
Not only Humble was surprised
he grimaced and apologised.
All brown and slippery was my shirt
thus fully covered with dessert.
You readers out there, full of wit
please tell, why don't they call it shit.
Comments about Humblepie by Herbert Nehrlich
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You