Pewe, Trwe and Jowe
All sat in a tree
Along came beauty
It eyes them, suspicously.
Aha, what do you do?
Why, we await you.
Looking upon the three
Sure it’s eyes decieve;
Trwe’s a balloon,
Jowe’s a mop,
And, Pewe’s a stingy bee.
To habour my switch
You must make a pitch
How will you humour me?
The mop alights and pats beauty’s hair
There, there, I have care
I’ll create a land
Where freedom stands,
“Jowe’s land” for any man.
Balloon, pink in face,
Slid down to take his place,
“Trwe’s land” is fertile and green
Buried problems remain unseen
Come to us and live ‘the dream’.
Bee then spoke one word.
Pewe buzzed it, for all it’s worth.
Freedom Beauty heard
Freedom from doctrine?
Beauty’s head did ringe…
Could there be such a thing?
Then Beauty loud did shout
Her anger heard by all about
Into the well fell all three
Trwe, Pewe and Jowe
Disappeared to nought but air
Leaving Beauty and the Tree.
The End.
By Samantha unextraordinarybint Harris.
