Well, well. We forgot to have a poem for the day yesterday and so to make up for this undersight we shall have one today instead. Today's rhymesmith is a young biglot from St. Harmon, Sara Jenkins. Sara says that English is a crude and sterile language, the bastard child of Angles and Germanians, and that it should not be on signposts. That's what happens if you send your children to the Welsh primary school, Mrs Jenkins. Sara claims her poems always sound much better in Welsh and I think there might be a touch of bias in her translations. Either that or she's rubbish.
The theist finds the heathen tragic:-
'You're all machine, but I am magic!'
The heathen smiles and says 'Let's see
Who first finds imm-or-tal-it-y.'
I don't know why she puts the dashes in - annoying isn't it? I think tomorrow we'd better have one from Glyn the fags the radiographer. Raise the bar a bit isn't it?