Today ah give le poetry reading, it is mah new ‘obby and,
lark everything ah do, ah am exceptional at it…
Ah clear mah throat before ah begin, then….
‘Roses are red’…
‘Worming paste is ghastly’
‘Ah love le carrot’..
‘But ah do not lark parsley’
Ah ask L’uncle what ‘e think… ‘Huh l’Uncle, huh HUH?’
‘Moi Son,’ ‘e say and ah know this will take a while and it will all be in Australian
so ah am already thinking up another poem…
‘e carry on anyway –
‘A kookaburra with a speech impediment could recoite better poetry than you’ ‘e say.
But ah do not understand a word ‘e say, beside ah ‘ave another poem ready to go –
‘Pardon moi for being so rude’…
L’Uncle is trying to interrupt but ah ignore ‘im…
‘It was not me it was mah food,’
ah am shouting now so le ‘orzes next door can ‘ear it.
‘It was a message from mah ‘eart’…
ah am fending off L’Uncle ‘oo is trying to get me to shut up before we both get in big trouble with Muzzeur.
‘In other words it WAS LE FAAAARRRRRT‘ ah bellow.
‘FART L’Uncle, get it? huh? HUH?’
I can not ‘elp mahself, ah do not know what get into me, ah am laughing ‘ysterically, taking great gulps of air.
‘Haw haw haw’ ah go. ‘It was le fart L’Uncle’.
Ah ‘ave tears running down mah face and ah am snorting with le mirth.
‘Ah make le joke about le farting L’Uncle, eh eh eh’.
L’Uncle, ‘e try not to laugh. ‘e ‘as ‘is serious Old Man look on.
‘Zephyr, shut up and look behoind you’ ‘e whisper