There once lived in sunny Tweed Heads <br />a great poet who had many pets <br />from a crow who could talk <br />to a wombat who'd walk <br />over all of the poet's made beds. <br /> <br />And on weekends he welcomed a man <br />who brought with him a stainless steel can <br />it was full of the stuff <br />that is made for the tough <br />in the morning he didn't need bran. <br /> <br />Mr Fittock comes every week <br />and without him it would be so bleak <br />and on special free Mondays <br />he can dwell on his fun days <br />says the bible, hooray to the meek. <br /> <br />And when MY friend called Gentleman Jack <br />pays a visit to counterattack <br />it is Scotch or that Bourbon <br />which is slightly disturbing <br />I am sure we will throw a few back. <br /> <br />So this shorty was writ for AS <br />who has seen the pathetic big mess <br />on the site for true poets <br />but he wouldn't quite show it <br />like the monster of Scotland's Lochness.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/limerick-for-a-poet/
