9th
April
2008
The Magic Shoe
A shoe, a shoe, a magic shoe
Sitting in glory in the middle of poo
What does a shoe do on a bed of glue?
Whollop the head of a smelly grue.
The light of the sun spits in my eye
and rakes the nails across my thigh
For what? I say, and I sigh
a simple slice of a spicy crow pie
Beans, beans, you’ve heard this before
Aren’t something your doggie should smear on the floor
A right-wing nut is knocking the door
But the mailbox flag will give him what-for.
The marker fumes are strong today
In a silky, satiny, moist sort of way
“Tho’art heady!” might some of you say
It’s perfect to sit in the river and play.
