The Mene

Twas a time,

of a certain grime,

encrusting the clime,

bereft of lime,

hear the chime,

of moving mime,

companions nine,

marched in a line,

once upon a tine,

It adds to the pine,

but they be kine,

affixed on mine,

climb up the vine,

grasping a bine,

stopping to dine,

on food quite fine,

in an angular sine,

The Mene,

they keep inline.

http://vocaroo.com/?media=vinwmfUpzRFvNpOeR

Advertisement