Poor Willie had a funny gait;
His feet were somewhat spastic,
Baggy trousers falling down
Because of tired elastic.
Split the atoms in my brain
With a tiny hatchet;
Ask not for whom the slow bells toil,
The quicker to dispatch it.
Silly Martha stuck her arm
Beneath a turning ratchet;
And all of Humpty's buckets, bowls
Were not enough to catch it.
Split the atoms in my brain
With a tiny hatchet;
Ask not for whom the slow bells toil,
The quicker to dispatch it.
Quick Leon drove his car too fast,
And soon enough he crashed it;
We gathered up what we could find
And in the glove box, stashed it.
Split the atoms in my brain
With a tiny hatchet;
Ask not for whom the slow bells toil,
The quicker to dispatch it.
Old Uncle Amos always wore
Upon his neck, a gasket;
One day young Amos pulled it out-
And now he wears a casket.
Split the atoms in my brain
With a tiny hatchet;
Ask not for whom the slow bells toil,
The quicker to dispatch it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an amazing poem that is sad and has great diction.