The citizens of Piney Flats,
They sit upon their bums,
Gaze idly at their suits and spats,
And drink brandy made from plums.

Whilst drinking their beloved slivovitz,
They ponder things absurd,
Like silly cures for zany zits,
And the many deaths of Smurd.

The citizens of Piney Flats
We mock an awful lot.
But, people who can vanquish spiney bats
Be trifled with should not.

The citizens of Piney Flats,
With valor great indeed,
Run screaming from the spiney bats,
At full and frightened speed.

So much for the folks of Piney Flats
Escaping all our mocking jibes.
But, they don't care, since the spiney bats
Are starting to form tribes!
***

I can't believe it took me this long to discover this thread. I love it. ^_^ Great work, everybody! Especially you, Smurd.


PS- "Beloved" is three syllables in this verse.

[ December 23, 2001: Message edited by: Gen ]

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