04-28-2013, 11:19 PM
A day off.
It’s Sunday, so there will be no poem today.
Three glasses of wine and I’m feeling rather gay.
I say gay, but I mean in a relaxed sort of way;
roast guinea fowl for dinner, dressed in game pate,
And now I’m rather full, can’t face my sauce anglais,
the crumble like the poem is on hold I’m afraid to say.
So contend thy soul’s impatience, and pass the chilled Vouray,
tomorrow I will essay and I'll make merry with wordplay.
But there will be no poetry today…I’m going to sit in my negligee,
with my bottle of wine…so leave me alone and go away!
Small edit (Sobered up slightly and took out verily from 4th couplet)
It’s Sunday, so there will be no poem today.
Three glasses of wine and I’m feeling rather gay.
I say gay, but I mean in a relaxed sort of way;
roast guinea fowl for dinner, dressed in game pate,
And now I’m rather full, can’t face my sauce anglais,
the crumble like the poem is on hold I’m afraid to say.
So contend thy soul’s impatience, and pass the chilled Vouray,
tomorrow I will essay and I'll make merry with wordplay.
But there will be no poetry today…I’m going to sit in my negligee,
with my bottle of wine…so leave me alone and go away!
Small edit (Sobered up slightly and took out verily from 4th couplet)