Once I got a birthday present
From my Auntie Brenda's pheasant
Eagerly I tore the wrapping
And barely stopped myself from crapping
For there within the pile of shredding
Kicking Elvis Presley's head in
Was a troop of ballerinas
All called Anne or Sue or Tina.
Gracefully they danced the conga
In one line which grew much longer
'Til it stretched to Timbuktu
Then tragically it split in two
And then in four and then in eight
Dividing at a startling rate
Until the infinite divisions
Formed a cloud upon my vision.
Then from this fog without a doubt
Sprang a million Brussels sprouts
And all of them they had one leg
And said they wanted me to beg
The Emperor Sprout's benevolent brother
To issue them each with another;
Only he was so empowered
To hand out limbs to such a crowd.
But I said "No, you foolish veggies,
If you look behind those hedges
You will find a million legs
Requiring sprouts like toast needs eggs."
And then I fled to avoid the rush
As every sprout leapt o'er a bush,
And to save my precious bacon
When they found out they'd been taken.
So I ran, I ran, I ran,
I ran into a strawberry flan.
I bounced against its textured sponge
Which splattered me with cream and gunge
And as I wiped it from my eye
A poultry healer I did spy
Who asked me if I'd seen a drake
Who'd gone down with a stomach ache.
I said I had not seen this fowl
And at this he began to howl
"If you don't find this sickly mallard
I shall sing a woeful ballad
One which will dismay you so
That for my patient you will go."
I said, "I shall do no such thing."
The poultry man began to sing.
But as he hit the opening bar
He got knocked down by a car
Which from the door there did alight
A wretched looking Israelite
Whose beard was made from curtain tassels
That once hung in Windsor Castle.
Awkwardly he held a plaice
Which he slapped across my face.
Auntie Brenda's Pheasant
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