pigmy ran with a slug slouched on her left shoulder
a lady bug on her bowler hat.
Slug desired more than this thankless task
of keeping alive on an errandess
With such a right shoulder.
Regardless, work had to be done;
for an anchor had landed on a ceiling,
and Master Rigor Pett,
a fickle copyist
with three eyes instead of one,
was as fussy as a pussy cat.
He bothered with too much,
And gave little care to most.
Family didn’t seem to mind;
The checks were never lost
And prompts never payed
Despite being one too short for.
Greed in the shape of dead mice.
Perhaps votes count for only for census
Drinks diluted in bitter spirits bite twice
An obvious lesson for all of us.
Pigmy did not approve of this message.
Too much pretence she reckoned.
And I agree entirely.