Ode to a Pickled Sloth

Oh thy frumptious slug in a sleeping state…

Awake, awake! for it is getting late!

The summer’s dying out, she gleams no more;

And all you do is lay there, drool and snore.

Awaken! Or I shall be sorely teased-

To wake you any evil way I please:

Cold water, music, or an ancient horn

Saved just for waking men on Thursday morn.

Pray wake, oh dearest sloth-man of my heart…

Or I shall sit upon your lazy head, and fart.

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11 thoughts on “Ode to a Pickled Sloth

  1. david- that was awful. More.

    stevo- Morning people scare me.

    rtd- ^

    ybonesy- lolol wish I’d thought of it

    Robin- sometimes unforgettable is better than irresistable. heh.

    mark- me too! Just appeals to the inner 12 year old, i guess.

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