A po-ehm
Higgledy piggledly won
(see here), So rhyming gets jiggy with me, oh dear.
I tried a review of
Wallace and Gromit, but alas, no psalms came from it.
Buckle my trunnions and bonnet,
I've moved on to a different sonnet.
***
Fuddy duddy stood in line
Three hours in cold, near cryin'.
A cuppa finally saved her fingers
(tho' her cough still lingers).
Fuddy duddy got for frees
Two tix to the
Black Eyed Peas. Last night's gig sure was loud, oh glug,
Yee-haa for the lowly ear plug.
The sound it was muffled
-- The tunes quite dis-tuffled --
But I survived the amps
Of decibels rampeds.
One note to all must be heeded:
Opera glasses are needed,
Lest just like me
You can't 'xactly see
Who's who with the mic
Blaring a political strike.
Bush is a dork and Up North was saluted --
Such were the locals well bruited!
"And which fellas love ladies?"
The yelling's like Hades.
"What fellas love fellas?" Er.
The silence said brr.
Even in Canada, hip-hop is rough
For the guy with a penchant for luff
with the same. Many still hide
(Did
Kanye West turn the tide?).
Sheepish, boy Pea then denied any curve,
But asking at all showed great nerve.
Girls who love girls let out jubilubs,
And made up for the too worried bubs.
All hail Black Eyed Peas,
They're the bee's knees.
For them, I toss bootie about.
P.S., I got
humps. Check it out.