far, far away from a place called doggerel
in the little known kigdom of Poentry
lies the well hidden town of sloggerel
not a stopover for all and sundry
the rough path to this dense neck of the woods
is littered with shattered egos and hearts
cast aside for being inferior goods
futile pursuits composed by pompous farts
and then there came along a big spider
weaving a tortured web of love's labour
he shyly sidled up close beside her
with words in verse he hoped she would savour
leave me alone she cried before leaving
leaving him red, crestfallen and grieving
