Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.110

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

If Peter Piper picked a pack of pickled peppers, would you care?
Would the peck be put in a glass jar? What if he dropped a hair in there?
And, if Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet digging
and found the jar that Piper had hidden in the muck,
along side the skull of Cro-Magnon man?

“Ahhh, NO we’ve found the hip girdle and he’s a she!”

Well, ole Pipper’s pecker would have gone to the pie in the sky
and Miss Muffet’s tuffet would have gone to compost;
So, how would the archeologist know for sure? "

Why the HIP, you hafta have hips, miles and miles and mile of hips…
Baby you can be a hero of course just put that ‘orse behind the cart!”

Heart, well it’s left the building too. “Geeezzz it was just a pump
whatcha want from a pump?” Thump, thump, from the bump, bump,
then ya hump, hump, and my goodness, we’re back to Peter Piper and his pecker? 

“NO, no, his peck of pickles and Muffet’s missin’ tuffet?

Well, I say the stars, yes the stars, show the way, 
the celestial meaning of the id, the I, the you, the ego too, 
and love “Ahhhhhh love the excuse for it all!”
The pickles, the muffins, the tuffet, the bumping the humpin’
The free for all of we!

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required