My teeth were in a fight last night,
At least that's what it seems,
There must have been a Bar/Room brawl,
Among my many dreams;
I bit somebody's finger off,
And shoved it up his bum,
That would explain the dirty mark,
Which stained my right hand thumb.
I woke with teeth around the bed,
Some broken, not my own,
And several ears, and a nose or two,
And a mix of skin and bone;
It was like a Scene from a Zombie flick,
With blood and guts and gore,
There was evidence of a candlestick,
And some blood upon the floor.
The cops were called at 3 a.m.
They arrived at ten to Five,
By then, there were bodies everywhere,
And a few souls still alive;
A dentist and a doctor,
Who happened to be about
Looked at the mess, and in distress,
Began to scream and shout.
In the end I slept right through it,
After all, it was in my mind,
When I woke, I have been burgled,
Someone had robbed me blind;
So the outcome of this sorry tale,
Is as plain as it can be,
Don't grind you teeth, while you're asleep,
As dentists don't come free!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem