Of stories grim.A Poem by andrew mitchell
In the house that Jack built
Jill was nowhere to be seen, Jill disappeared in a pail of water. Now Jack has a new girl Mary Mary quite contrary, how did her garden grow? Little did Jack know Mary Mary quite contrary killed and buried her husbands there. Who saw them die? I said the fly I saw them die. Old Mother Hubbard was locked in her cupboard her boot was put up for sale. All the while the three blind mice kidnapped the farmer's wife for a king's ransom, and the dish that ran away with the spoon was later found broken. It was all looking grim when cracks appeared on Humpty Dumpty. And what of the spoon you ask? Well that was put back in the cutlery draw. © 2024 andrew mitchell |
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2 Reviews Added on July 15, 2018 Last Updated on March 16, 2024 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..Writing
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