Sweet Irish

Poor Wee Robbie
Needed bad his cannoli
So he found him a shoppe
Open for him at AM 3:30
A knife he put to the baker
To prove he was no faker
He was gonna get his caker
Or send the cook to his Maker
Robbie from Eire doth hail
And tis true this sad wee tale
Desperate for Italian pastry without fail
Now he’s headed for a Boston jail

[Irish tourist charged with Boston cannoli theft-AP/Yahoo News
A tourist from Ireland apparently couldn’t wait to get his hands on an Italian pastry in Boston.]

About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on September 14, 2012, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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