Poor Old Pete, Had 29 Feet. Poem by Michael Gale

For the love of Pete...
With twenty nine feet.

Who tells them most whoppering tales...
Maybe-about a blubbering blue and another red and golden clumsy pair 'o whales.

These talking whales you see...
To other beings, might seem quite brutish and ugly.

You see old Pete, with twenty nine feet, would have an over sized budget-in shoes...
And Odor Eaters, please, what a laundry bill, for his socks, always come, dues.

Fourteen and a half pair of socks can create such a laundry bill, can't you see? ...
Talk about your hospital bills, How funny?

Poor old Pete, with twenty nine feet, ran out of money...
So he double timed it into a bank, rigged with a gun on twenty seven feet and two hands-How this must seem too funny?

He would be like a human machine gun...
Son?

Pool old Pete with twenty nine feet came down with a bad case of Epilepsy and had such a shaking attack...
That he kicked himself to death, in his derriere-sided back.