This story is one of great rapport
About a boy and a pasty long told evermore
And an auntie who really couldn't cook
Who made a pasty right out of a cook book
But alas the recipe wasn't all it seemed
As it was shared around as the China gleamed
It didn't take long for their bowels to work
As toilet bowls were painted by the family screaming, "It hurts"
The days lengthen whilst the suffering went on
From their tops and bottoms in a sickly song
But not for one of the favoured sons
With no stomach ache occurring his laughter so long
Winning the title of "Cast iron Guts" with digestion so strong
And the legend still lives as it remains in folk lore forever along.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem