The Lyger

poetry

Lyger! Lyger! burning bright
In the midst of a fight,
What skilled artist tragic
Could draw thy skills in magic?

In what distant land or place
Did thy perilous form take shape?
On what inspiration were thee based?
What the paper could have thee encased?

And for the purposes of meeting a girl,
What maestro of pen could thee unfurl?
And when thy form began to take shape,
What the dressing of thee in a cape?

And to be sure thee did not suck,
What the pencil? What the fuck
Were the thoughts on his mind,
While he starred off, as if blind?

When he danced with all his might
Were thee only or a friggin blight?
Did he smile his drawing to see?
Did he who drew Pedro draw thee?

Lyger! Lyger! burning bright
In the midst of a fight,
What skilled artist tragic
Could draw thy skills in magic?

9 thoughts on “The Lyger

    1. Jared Abraham's avatar

      The Lamb

      Little Saxsquatch, I’ll tell thee!
      Little Saxsquatch, I’ll tell thee!
      He is not called by thy name,
      because he is quite lame.
      He is not meek, nor is he mild,
      and he never was a little child.
      I a Julio and thou a Saxsquatch
      Neither of us called a lambsquatch.
      Little Saxsquatch, God bless thee!
      Little Saxsquatch, God bless thee!

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