Dia dieciocho / Dag achtien! Well thank the F that's over! No more banging on our doors!
They came, they kissed each other's butt and, went! Who? Who gives a shit? Not us at the Nutters Beach Club, we had more important things to do like:
Our resident poet laureate, pissed pirate, and his Polly parrot, brought the house down last night reciting several surreal limericks and, 5 bottles of Captain Morgan, then fell off his bar stool! Sir Francis Charlton, you ancient, one-eyed, blue-bearded, dastardly, scoundrel you!
Here are just a few of the masterpieces recited so wonderfully by our resident super piss-artist, NO! Not Burton, Sir Francis Charlton, an Esq indeed:
Equestrian ambivalence in a spoof
Erskine Quint scratched Lester Piggot's hoof
High in the saddle he stood
Green, hot pants, like Robin Hood
And only fools on horses are so aloof
Erskine Quint you are an ace
but you do live out in space
we earthlings are just plain
compared to your poetical brain
and with this I rest my case
I once coughed in winter
my lung split like a splinter
I coughed again in summer
what a bummer
Booze, burp! Better, to be a drinker!
Erskine Quint = Poetical genius
I bow to his presence among us
A knighthood or medal
Queen Lizzy step on your pedal
EQ in the palace, a spoofing Erasmus
After this Sir Francis was so pissed he forgot his lines so his deaf, dumb, and blind parrot, did the rest!
Adiios, hasta luego, tot morgen, fellow Nutters!