Poetry Game: Match 2

This is the second of the Poetry Game poems that I'm going to post. (Explained in the Poetry Game: Match 1 post).

Unfortunately none of the line-ending tags were chronicled. (They tell whose line is whose.) So, I would just like to go on the record and say, "If the line is brilliant, I totally wrote it. If it sucks, It was totally my brother's." (I'm just kiddin' bro, you rock!) I believe my niece also contributed to this one. (When our powers, combine we form...Captain Planet, well, maybe just a silly clown poem. Still equally awesome in my eyes. Heart!)

This is probably the most off the wall of the group. (It's the one that I like the best.) It's also makes the most sense.

Hope it adds sunshine to your day!

Enough of the crap! Here's the poem: (warning: may cause clown phobias and obsessions)

A clown in farmer pants carried a flute,
And chased me and threaten to shoot,
I thought, oh yeah, oh no, oh poot.

A hero rises from the well,
Clown slayer he's called, a story to tell,
But he's really a plumber named Dale.

To stop the clown, cried Dale, eat your vegetables,
Or I will thrash with my many tables,
I learned how by watching cable,
And forcefully milking my cow Mable.

Against the giggling foe he stands strong,
De-clowns the foe, righting the wrong,
Dale went back to play Donkey Kong,
When the clown recovered with a hit from his mighty bong.

Oh poor Dale, the danger he doesn't yet know,
The clown will expire, but how will he go?
Guts and silly string out from him blow,
Dale exclaimed, Ah s--t, and took a dip of skoal.

Early September 2008

I need to call Dale about a peach problem,
Jenn