Monday, August 6, 2007

The Cotton Man

There once was a man who was made out of cotton.
The formative years of his childhood were rotten.
His classmates were horrid, and with every breath,
They’d quite universally rag him to death.
But the jibes and the jeers weren’t the worst of his ills –
They frequently used him for mopping up spills.
And he’d inwardly cringe, when those friends of him joked
That he doubled in weight every time he got soaked.

He entered the priesthood and went into exile,
The only way out for a man made of textile.
In the jungles of Burma, he tended his flocks,
Though frightened they’d turn him into some nice socks.
But the heat and humidity made him get angrier
And one night, he had just a bit too much sangria,
And he swore and he cursed and he let forth his wrath,
Which scarcely befitted a man of the cloth.

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