by Nick Gisburne
Inviting Twitchy Agatha for tea,
The Order of Excruciating Monks
Unleash their legs with disconcerting glee,
And chop them into fondue-friendly chunks.
Their guest, equipped with skewers and a smile,
Rotates a meaty morsel in the cheese.
A string of it, one quarter of a mile,
Constricts her cat, but fumigates its fleas.
Entangled in the gorgonzola goo,
The frenzied feline’s undulating tongue,
Infused with fish and flatulent fondue,
Concocts a clumsy carol, sweetly sung.
The legless Order, aching to impress,
Baptise the cat, to which it yodels, “Yes!”
