Old John Twain, quite utterly insane,
Took his pet albino badger for a walk,
A policeman appeared, sporting a red & gold beard,
Shouting, “Stop, honey, we really must talk!”
“No need to be frightened, but do you have a license
for that badger?” John replied, “Cabbage.”
“Cabbage? My, my, what a very odd reply!”
mused the Copper, scratching his radish.
“A badger-walking permit? How on earth can I earn it?”
sobbed old John with a shake and a quiver.
“Fetch me a crab in a coat and then marry my goat
and a new license I shall promptly deliver!”
John did as he was bid – wed the goat, fed it’s kid,
The policeman beckoned, “Now you may pass.”
He performed a pirouette on a cheese omelette
and promptly disappeared – up his own arse.
His freedom assured, John chuckled then roared
He nearly soiled himself, my – he did laugh!
In the Constable’s clamour to legalize his badger
He failed to notice John’s purple giraffe!
Type of stuff