“Big plonk,
little plonk,
cardboard box
What…
looks like a goose,
and smells like a fox?”
“What?”
“Big plonk,
little plonk,
cardboard box
What…
looks like a goose,
and smells like a fox?”
“What?”
It is said that ‘some poets’
find inspiration in a bottle;
but, in my case,
I do not need the Demon drink;
I think
outside of the box,
like the canny fox
who declined a job offer
from Erwin Schrödinger,
and was pleased at that –
unlike Frisky the renamed cat.
In a box
lived a fox
who spent his days
in fixing clocks;
adjusting ticks
and cleaning tocks,
and with his wages
he bought new socks.