The story of my uncle Fritz
is made up of so many bits
it started with the age of zits
then followed fifteen rowdy kids
who played with strangers, getting nits
and in the morning ate hot grits.
He drove a car named Opel Blitz
and crashed it, giving him the shits
he’s dead but the description fits.
Did you enjoy the the artible “A Poem For Our Juvies” from Herbert Nehrlich on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply