The Adjective Cellar
The Adjective Cellar
Nestling smugly twixt pepper and salt
The adjective cellar begins its assault
When carelessly picked by some epicure
Who sadly considers himself connoisseur
Once the poor dinner guest flips up the top
The words tumble out, they’re awkward to stop
They bounce on the table and under the chairs
And yelling and screaming they bound up the stairs
Normally nouns are wrapped up in chains
Tortured and bound and horribly maimed
Now they’re ecstatic about to be pleasured
As picturesque words stand up to be measured!
The Vicar remarks on these halcyon days
Whilst Major Winstanley has Draconian ways
And poor Mrs Kingsley’s exordium chatter
Falls willy nilly on euphoric batter
The twins are excited in ectopic manner
The cats caught its tail in a Hashemite planner
The Doctor is dissident, red in the face
Flapping his hands with acrimonious grace
Sadly the dinner has come to a close
The adjective cellar is back in repose
The nouns are re-bound the adverbs placated
The Vicar, the Major, the Doctor berated
But wasn’t it fun to see how our language
Can blossom and bloom and happily languish
In even the narrowest pinch penny mind
When the fruits of the Adjective cellar are vined
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