Pippa Passes Gas

by Easter Cathay

ANYONE who uses the word 'twas in a poem
is just too twee, and should be smacked upside the head,
unless they are Jabbering.

Anyone who uses the phrase ''smacked upside the head''
should have a Southern twang, or be twitted.

Anyone who uses the word ''twat'' in a poem
should be illustrious
and dead.

Birds had better not tweet or twitter, unless they are
undergoing Disneyfication, and if their sunny backs
twit me, they shall have something to answer for,
d'you twig?

And I'll take a twelve-foot two-by-four
to any two-bit, two-timing gentleman
so untoward as to twirl his mustache or twinkle
his beady little eyes at me.

I'm sure I've told you at least twice,
if not twenty-two times: stop twitching like that
when I tweak your tweeds with tweezers;
twiddle your thumbs instead,
you twin twerps.

As the black roses of our twilight years
twine their thorny tendrils around us,
betwixt and between, no longer twentysomething
but still interested in a twosome — no twin beds for us!
twisting the night away despite twinges of rheumatism,
we are waddling along, twill-clad
and still spouting twaddle.

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