Vogon Poetry Corner
Created | Updated Feb 20, 2003
Hotels
The hotel was a piece of mouldy cherry cake,
It was a barometer on a winters day,
I hated it.
Another hotel was inside my head,
It flew away out my eye,
I went crosseyed.
Hotels are inoperculate places,
Squinancy peeble hum,
Swipple swire I said.
A sybbe felwort ferrate nib,
Once pinged a porbeagle,
I said still crosseyed
Argot kali minda mon,
(oh look its a small squidge of gunge that i found last night on the inside of a 64D shape)
My eyes are stuck oh well
There was a hotel on the telly once,
That was when I was still a embryo
Dunno 'bout that one...
