Another attempt at Chelsea’s terrible poetry contest where, thus far, I have been judged previously as ‘absolutely dreadful’, ‘without redeeming features’ and ‘unrepeatable’ but not quite bad enough.
“Let’s Topic on a humorous end to a useful object,” Chelsea suggests
Here we go again ….
The witch she mixes potion
Bats’ wings and eye of newt
Tears of angels, toes of frogs
Old wine and rotting fruit
She casts her spell, she leaves her smell
She takes off with a slop
“She’ll not get far with that,” I say,
“It’s not a broomstick, it’s a mop.”