'Too Many Poets'

Key to authors' pseudonyms

Like, all hands on peckers, we've run out of goats
The cabin boy just died
Explore the sheep, saute the cook
Then meet back here at five ...

Hell, I'll Larry your Christmas
and Shemp on your door
You'll call out for Curly
Still, there'll be Moe.

It was once two matched jewels, one for each hand
Your varicose vanity strangled the glans
Waste-filled intestines where dark logs take form
Infest sleeping sentries afraid to be born.

Was it you who tied this bustle?
It's so tight I'll pull a muscle
Does this mean I'm out of luck, or
Would some scissors slice this sucker?

Me puddled me pantsies
Me soaked 'em through good
Me do too much drinking
But not enough food.
The truth of the matter
Pours out of both ends.
Wear briefs or wear boxers?
The answer: Depends.

Procol Harum concerts in 2001: index page

Manchester: Palers' Convention

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