On Tue, Apr 17, 2001 at 06:51:00PM +0100, The Evil Twin wrote:
"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to compose a poem, in
any language, about courgettes."
The Courgette
In a garden once I wandered, list'ning closely by the pond, heard
Ever near a sound beyond - birds calling me like some poor pet.
Fleeing as the hedges narrowed, both my soil and soul were harrowed,
Came a cry that froze my marrow, "Do not leave this sopor yet!"
Watching, though my mind grew number, falling to this cold new slumber,
I could see each dark cucumber taunting me to ne'er forget.
Theirs I was, but yet serenely, still I held that they'd not wean me
From my lost belov'd zucchini - I would not submit nor fret.
Though, alas, I was too late, and slowly yielded to my fate,
Predestined since the first I ate - the cold and darkling sweet courgette.