Tinkle

I love to tinkle,
Into porcelain pond.
Tinkling, I am fond.

I love to tinkle,
In tall field grass.
Split stream so crass.

I love to tinkle,
In bucket round.
Dull plastic sound.

I love to tinkle,
Building corner hide.
Better than inside.

I love to tinkle,
On a tree so wide.
Behind it I can hide.

I love to tinkle,
On a long lawn green.
Distance my dream.

I love to tinkle,
On snow so white.
Yellow pee holes in it.
Oh, what a sight.

I hate to tinkle,
On an electric fence.
Anyone that does it,
Have no sense.

So now I tinkle
In a plastic tube.
There’s the rube.

No sound.
That’s profound.


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Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull

11/17/02

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