Capped

Capped

When down under
with the plunder
buried 'neath the ground,
Is it a wonder
that those who blunder
would keep one without sound?

Without one whistling wit
Keeping on with out fit
Nothing to be found
ground to the bit
walking the spit
Our eyes wander 'round.

Ahoy mate, who are you
with feet tied, how do you do?
what's that? do you gag?
You have to use the loo?
Spit that out, "poo"
Lift out of that sag.

Strengthen those knees,
utter those pleas
One above will hear.
even if you have fleas
take the day, seize
the help is near.

Spring up out of the sod,
Courage as of the god
Growing strong steady on
though the night going odd
and sensing the fraud,
faithfully meeting the dawn.

Yes some find fodder
where offered water
but keep peace and hold,
because as the blotter
erasing its spotter,
the poet is bold.