In a place called Peking-Jother
Lives each Wicker-Wocker Brother,
And they argue kings and many things,
Especially the wuther.
One Wicker-Wocker Brother
Starts saying, to another,
"Cum in wuth me! I'm so chully!
It's vury bad, bad, wuther."
Says the second to his brother;
"This is nut so bad of wuther!
The wind is so gentle it cud
N't evun move a futher."
Then the third says to his brother;
"This is hurrible bad wuther!
The clouds urr grey and the sun's away,
And the burds have all gone Suther."
Now a fourth says of his brother,
"Did he cum frum my own muther?
He says thure's a storm, but I'm still warm,
and his nagging is a buther."
"Is nut!" cries out another.
"It's culd!" says the sixth brother.
Then they yell and fight (it lasts all night),
All twelve on the state of the wuther.
Sleep's not easy in Peking-Jother
With them bickering at each other,
So the visitors stay, only during the day,
And at night, they leave town for another.
So,
If you're passing through Peking-Jother,
And meet a Wicker-Wocker Brother,
Be polite, say hi, then walk on by,
And DON'T ever mention the weather.
YOU ARE READING
Reflections of an Idle Mind
De TodoI'm finding I like to write a little before I go to sleep, and I figured I'd do it on here as much as I'd do it on my notes. Each part is seperate, and could be an idea for a story, something I just felt like writing, or a poetic blurt of feelings...
