Proxy poem

Catweazle is unwell. Today’s poem is by his amanuensis, Ebenezer Knippletezer.

Catweazle is unwell today,
upon a bed of pain.
Some scorbutical infection
has assailed his teeming brain.

If you want my opinion
— and you’ll get it anyway —
his brain is foxed
by poxy words
that don’t mean what they say.


 

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