Metamelos
Here's logg'd three dogg'rel stiches, all burlesquing lines by Carroll
in the hopes of launching loads of laughs -- at minimum, a barrel.
To diss 'em you're entitled; you dismiss 'em at your peril.
Stiches
I mark'd a crescent moon, that segment sewn on Muslim flags.
I then drew you this picture, like those shown in Turkish mags.
Your comment...? Brash: "Who pens such trash be nowt but scalawags."
I gazed on Joe; he's six-foot-fo' but elsewise like ourselves.
I then drew you this picture which into his essence delves.
But you, like H.V.D. before you, moo'd, "More bleedin' elves...?"
*Hugo Dyson, Tolkien's fellow Inkling, on hearing that man's
reading of his Ring Trilogy's latest installment, famously remarked,
""F**k! Not another elf!"
I found a shrivell'd foreskin (a memento from some bris...?).
I then drew you this picture. (Note the dehydrated jizz.)
Can I be sure you really have no clues to whose it is...?
I ran across a mood ring. (How shall stay a mystery.)
I then drew you this picture -- true to life, as well you see.
Your attitude...? Your routine mood. (You're such an s.o.b.*)
*"Spawn of a bitch' allows for gender-neutral slander.
I stumbled on a lava lamp at St. Jude's jumble sale.
I then drew you this picture at a seven-thirteenths scale.
(You never liked St. Jude's -- how all the price tags were in Braille.)
I spied a Bible planted in our fam'ly's chiffarobe.
I then drew you this picture. 'Fess up! Who's the credophobe...?
Your out-of-order answer...? Some misquoted verse from Job.
I broke two Xmas bubble lights bequeathed to us by Mom.
I then drew you this picture of their fragments in my palm.
If I have warn'd you once, I've done a thousand times: Stay calm!
I ate three Brit-baked sausage rolls, each stuff'd with mince of pheasant.
I then drew you this picture: "Happy birthday! Here's your present."
Your feedback, once you'd eyed it, proved remarkably unpleasant.
I read a line of Lewis's where's mention'd railway shares.
I then drew you this picture showing half a dozen pairs.
You cannot know how struck I was when you remark'd, "Who cares!"
I eyed a damaged emu egg, one smuggl'd from its nest.
I then drew you this picture which such sightings would attest.
I'd fail'd to realize my sketch would leave you so distress'd.
I then saw...who...? (So: was it you...? The shaver gave no name.)
Whereon I drew this picture -- though as yet it lacks a frame.
But you'd agree: whate'er I see, your come-back's e'er the same...?
