A neighbour said when he was born,

his father threw bricks at the stork.

His mother grew to love him like,

Rabbi Goldman loves roasted pork.

He never seemed a “wanted” child,

was baptised in boiling water.

His rattle had a snake attached,

rumour is they planned a daughter.

They settled on the forename “Vick”,

for he got up peoples noses.

Their second choice was Castor Oil,

“to be taken in small dozes”.

At school he was the teacher’s pet,

she kept him in a metal cage.

Breast feeding him between the bars,

he was weaned in his middle age.

I’ve heard some say “he dressed to kill”,

but his breath could be fatal too.

Even conversing at arms length,

was like kissing elephant poo.

He often asked “why do you take,

an instant dislike to poor me?”

What could we tell him but the truth?

“for it saves us some time you see”.

His first love was a suffragette,

she perceived of all his failings.

But to her misfortune she was caught,

she was chained to iron railings.

He was happy then to wed her,

though the local zoo keepers tell.

She shagged a chimp for a peanut,

then came back once more for the shell.

He takes lessons in deportment,

three more then they can deport him.

His passport states “varicose brains,

as thick as a Gurkha’s foreskin”.

Oli 22/01/08