Oh dear, o me, o my.
What's become of my fly?
Trembling hands find it to be rather stuck.
Caught zip in britches is unpropitious!
No pith! ... I'm in a muck!
My hand pulls quite graceless
The fly that's not blameless
When, hark! A firm yank frees zip gone amok.
Freed wee can now move with ease quite shameless.
To pith! .. I'm in such luck!
Inspiration for the subject matter and use of the "p" word in this bit of silly poetry nonsense goes directly to Sir Percy Bisque Silley who is the very talented host of a silly poetry contest. (Link: http://percybisque.blogspot.com/2010/03/percylets-soliloquy.html)
Reading the entries of our own dear Lady Dianne, Sir Percy, J Cosmo Newbery and other talented bloggers has been quite diverting and entertaining.
PS: Thanks also to Percy Bysshe Shelley even though he's rather dead and would turn in his grave.