Doggerel

Quaking in my shoes

I walk a mile in thine

Going the distance

In convenient rhyme

Take the path less traveled

Not the garden path.

Your mind is a garden.

Grow no grapes of wrath.

Doggerel this ditty

Full of balderdash

Fun to write, not pretty

Sausages and mash.

Sometimes sense is nonsense,

Chunks of broken dirt.

Dinner’s spoiled forever

So time to serve dessert.