Your Poetry

[JJ_Maniac]

There once was a man with a spoon for an ear,
And a tabletop vase for an eye,
And he would take to his horse and roam through the town
And declare “It’s quarter past nine!”

And the regular townsmen, with a shaking of heads
And a noticeable stamping of feet,
Would say “What an odd fellow, he’s surely deranged,
For as anyone could rightfully say,
It’s barely a quarter from three!”