Written by Monkey Woods

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Tags: Poetry

Tuesday, 4 October 2016

image for The White Stuff The white stuff spurting into a glass

I like milk, I'm inclined to say,
And I drink it keenly, ev'ry day
One me Corn Flakes, in me tea,
Sans milk, the same, it would not be

Does the milkmaid, on her stool
Know the bliss she brings this fool?
Udder clenched - then, without fail
The white stuff spurts into her pail!

And then the milkman, on his float
Provides according to Mum's note
Chilled and pure as driven snow
The milk that sets me all aglow

Then, morning, afternoon and night
I quoff the pintas, gleaming white
'Til bedtime comes again, once more
And empties stand outside our door

Three pints again today, please, Milky!

Woods 2016

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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