Question of the Day: What poem do you have committed to memory?
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@GaryPoole
A man stood on a precipice
A rope around his throat
A pint of poison he had drunk
For life had got his goat.
He held a pistol to his head
A bomb was in his britches
And sticks of dynamite as well
It nearly bust the stitches
He stepped up to the high cliff edge
And then with bated breath
Jumped onto the rocks below
As he thought, to his death
The rope stopped with a sudden jerk
But not enough to choke
The gun went off, but missed his head
And hit the rope, which broke
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@GaryPoole
He landed in the ocean
Which at this point was shallow
And there he brought the poison up
As briny he did swallow.
The water put the fuses out
And now for life he craved
He simply wandered to the shore
And thus his life was saved!