The Poetry Contest
The Poetry Contest
I'll tell you a tale, I'm sure you'll agree
It'll interest those who write poetry
A poets contest
To find one who's best
To go down in historic anthology.
For the contest a massive hall was found
Poets arrived in droves from miles around
Some flew in by plane
By boat others came
With great expectations of being crowned.
The first prize was a case of finest wine
Poets revised their work so they'd sound fine
Some went weak and freaked
Others loudly shrieked
All coveting the prize - juice of the vine.
First up was a Scot with the name of McNee
He'd supped too much beer 'cos it was cost free
Then his beer he spilt
Wind blew off his kilt
Thus his ‘endowment' the whole world could see.
Next came Pam, like a glam model she dressed
She breathed deeply and out popped her huge breast
With thunderous roar
Guys yelled out for more
With an eyewink she said 'I am the best'.
28th December 2020
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