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The Beachmen’s script
The Beachmens had spurred,
Through the pits of their teeth
Of a tine of forgotten,
Two miles off the heath.
I took up my swaddle
And my fish and my tat
With my pictures of stoats
And my dead friend - the rat.
I rolled athwart mountain
And swam athwart lakes.
For the Beachmen’s promise
Of pieces of six or seven
or eight.
This tine was paradise
Littered with gold
But the Beachman was pillaging,
The scriptures unfold.
His body is twisted, and black with blue
He stole the goods of my pack
plus the soles of my shoe.
Another one ask for the pockets of jewels,
The tart in my tuck and the feather of quill.
The final ask for the myrrh in my case
The bone of my back and the skin of my face.
He ripped out my eyes, before I could see
The jaw-bone, the house-key, the liver
And me.
My crypt was closed.
The Beachmens had spurred,
Through the pits of their teeth
Of a tine of forgotten,
Two miles off the heath.
I took up my swaddle
And my fish and my tat
With my pictures of stoats
And my dead friend - the rat.
I rolled athwart mountain
And swam athwart lakes.
For the Beachmen’s promise
Of pieces of six or seven
or eight.
This tine was paradise
Littered with gold
But the Beachman was pillaging,
The scriptures unfold.
His body is twisted, and black with blue
He stole the goods of my pack
plus the soles of my shoe.
Another one ask for the pockets of jewels,
The tart in my tuck and the feather of quill.
The final ask for the myrrh in my case
The bone of my back and the skin of my face.
He ripped out my eyes, before I could see
The jaw-bone, the house-key, the liver
And me.
My crypt was closed.
*Shakes fist*
Them pesky stoats.
I have a hankering for some random peotry.
Them pesky stoats.
I have a hankering for some random peotry.
And I love how you got the stoats in again.
I believe this should be an obligatory ingredient in all poems.
Yep.
I believe this should be an obligatory ingredient in all poems.
Yep.
Thank you.
How you continue to provide such genius poems is beyond me.
Excellent, it's its own hilarious little way.
Excellent, it's its own hilarious little way.
The Beachmen’s script
The Beachmens had spurred,
Through the pits of their teeth
Of a tine of forgotten,
Two miles off the heath.
I took up my swaddle
And my fish and my tat
With my pictures of stoats
And my dead friend - the rat.
I rolled athwart mountain
And swam athwart lakes.
For the Beachmen’s promise
Of pieces of six or seven
or eight.
This tine was paradise
Littered with gold
But the Beachman was pillaging,
The scriptures unfold.
His body is twisted, and black with blue
He stole the goods of my pack
plus the soles of my shoe.
Another one ask for the pockets of jewels,
The tart in my tuck and the feather of quill.
The final ask for the myrrh in my case
The bone of my back and the skin of my face.
He ripped out my eyes, before I could see
The jaw-bone, the house-key, the liver
And me.
My crypt was closed.
The Beachmens had spurred,
Through the pits of their teeth
Of a tine of forgotten,
Two miles off the heath.
I took up my swaddle
And my fish and my tat
With my pictures of stoats
And my dead friend - the rat.
I rolled athwart mountain
And swam athwart lakes.
For the Beachmen’s promise
Of pieces of six or seven
or eight.
This tine was paradise
Littered with gold
But the Beachman was pillaging,
The scriptures unfold.
His body is twisted, and black with blue
He stole the goods of my pack
plus the soles of my shoe.
Another one ask for the pockets of jewels,
The tart in my tuck and the feather of quill.
The final ask for the myrrh in my case
The bone of my back and the skin of my face.
He ripped out my eyes, before I could see
The jaw-bone, the house-key, the liver
And me.
My crypt was closed.