Liqueur

Once upon a time,

lived a big fat king.

On his buttons was grime,

it didn’t even spare his ring.

his breath smelt of liqueur,

which made his missus fume,

And his majesty flicked her,

straight out of the room.

She tumbled down the hill,

past sheep and other cattle,

and stopped in a windmill,

with the sound of a rattle.

Down came the miller,

with his teenaged son,

who picked a sand filler,

and stuck it in her bum.

She sat on a barrell of liqueur

Which gave her quite a turn.

The pain completely left her,

and she danced like a fern.

A peacock stopped by then,

and shook his feathers with pride,

and called out to the hen,

and said, “let’s take a ride”.

They flew towards the ocean,

as if intoxicated,

and mistook the sun,

for something that got them irritated.

What was it, you may ask.

and I wouldn’t know,

but I surely had a blast,

when I was high and on the go.

As for the queen’s story,

I think we’ve had enough.

rest assured she was hunky-dory

and left the mill in a huff.

The king was hallucinating,

and awoke with his bottle of liqueur,

his ears were ringing,

and he went back into his long stupor.