I found a sickle in a lickle
Bit of butter in the gutter
And I'm a poet (yes, I know it)
So I chucked it in a bucket.

Just then a druid with some fluid
(What's it called? I think it's gall)
Asked for the bucket - I said, 'Suck it!'
You're a sow!' Reply: 'And how!'
But the butter in the gutter
Shows how mickle is the sickle
For it to penetrate the concentrate
Of dairy - it's not airy!

So out of pity for my city
I sent the druid with the fluid
Out of the gate. He said, 'I rate
This city worser than a curser,
Truly stupider than Cupid.
I said 'Go 'way. I know where you may
Find a niche for your hashish
Which you smoke instead of coke
So sod off, man, to Ashtan.

Please don't take offence, druids!

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Aeguary, in the year 243 AF.