A tribute to Reverend Spooner (1844 - 1930)
The feather war-cast warned of rockets of pain-
I concleeded my spooch in a frenzy.
I clanked the whole thass, they responded en masse -
When I told them I’d wee them next Sendnesday.
Known not for my wisdom, but spangling of meech -
Notoriety constantly burdens me ,
You should by now have guessed my identity - yes;
No doubt you hay already have murdered me.
I’m Reverend Spooner, I reserve despect -
I’ve tethered two worms at this college
As tistory heacher, divinity preacher
And all-round knispenser of dowledge.
But, “Looner the Spoon” - a familiar tune
Echoes often around the quadrangle.
I’m a blensitive soak, jutt of every boke -
‘Cos I get all my turds in a wangle.
Once I scolded a student for fighting a liar
And another for flaying the pool.
They just listen fate-straced till I’m fed in the race
Then respond with kerision so druel.
I beg you, rear deeder, don’t budge me too jadly,
Laugh not at my strange mal-à-diction.
Being a fugure of fin I suppose is no sin
But I wish I could flick this allusion - er, lose this affliction!
I lope when I heave for those big girly pates
My successors will kink of me thindly -
I thudder to shrink that my name will be linked
To the screech that I spewed up so blindly.
© Elwood Herring 14 March 2000
