Wind blows to set strain apart.
Yet, sheep joyfully bear it a cross.
Hardly do they mind to depart,
Rather tag the fight posse.
Im not fake.
I bake natural cake.
It may really ache
And take time- for a sake
But never been opaque.
With joy, pen swims through tunnel:
For sacrifice, mind walks through the valley;
Fastening pages to the trunnel,
Trading lines and stanzas energy for galley.
Outpouring enough through grace funnel...
Flying birds, quills feather.
Chirping sounds good a say,
In all kinds of troubling weather.
Knowledge grows not grey.
Don't just know YOU:
Somewhat stupid and funny, a star.
Not only in all you do,
People choose to write you memoir.
Jack’s been missing of late
Checked at the pearly gate
He wasn’t there
(a minor scare —
does have a future date)
Sure missed the son-of-a-gun
Blowhard, so full of it (fun)
I asked our friend Judy
and old Howdy Doody,
they said, “Jack’s on the run”
After a look in the chunnel
I found him at Cosmofunnel
Let’s lim’rick attack
and get our Jack back
Pin him here with a trunnel.
Jack said he’d return to the soup
if I did, the wacky old poop
So here I am
one silly ham.
Bring it on you goofy fruit loop!
*Jack Ellison, in case you're wondering
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