Grumble about thou miserable fiend!
I'll soon see myself rid of your lousy
Carcass and smelly ass that has not been
Cleaned since last winter's icy snows did free
All noses from the cataracts of thine
All to large, unkempt, foul, crass, loathsome hole!
I have oft thought of becoming a mole
In light of mine assignment to your, fine,
Impeccable, distinguished, loud mouth hide!
Yet why should I grumble at the grumbler
Of grubby grubs git? I should search the wide
World for him when he is gone and mumble
To myself of the horrendous whether;
Perhaps I have found my bird of feather?
Loud Mouthed Feathers, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012
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