Droll

By Elvira

He was a troll
who thought he was droll
Sonnets he wrote
in pentameter he spoke
His humor was uptown
in verses he did drown
A jester he was not
yet, he told the king to rot
No henchman’s blade knew he
a survivor, he would be
until he met his Maker
HE was not a taker
“the Pearly Gates aren’t yours
to Hell is “votre” tour
Take your bells and whistles
they are noisy missiles
to Washington go feast
to visit the new beast
His words are rude —
the world he’ll set in feud
“get thee to the nunnery, Knave
but do a Gillette shave”

So off he went to Washington town
and cried all the way down
The Head Fool out talked, yes
and, now, can you can guess —
the New Pied Piper blew his horn —
every second – a fool is born.

Burma Shave

March 2017