Horrible Horace has a hate-filled head
That’s hid a hundred hurtful happenings,
But here he heads, happy, hoping instead
To have and hold old Harriet Hawkins.
Her heavy-hearted husband had few sins:
He’d never hit his Harriet, ever,
But hadn’t a whole head’s intelligence,
While Horace, however, was how clever!
Here’s Horrid Horace hoping he’ll sever
Her from her husband; he’s hunting him dead,
Holding a heavy holdall heaped with things
He’s honed: hacksaws to hack husband’s liver.
Happily, helpers hear of his hatred,
And Horace is hanging. Hey, how he swings!
Mon 2o Aug 2007
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