There once was a multilingual green owl
Whose temper had grown fully foul.
He said “Practice your French!”
As he pulled out a wrench
Then watched me spell “vingt” with a scowl.
There once was a multilingual green owl
Whose temper had grown fully foul.
He said “Practice your French!”
As he pulled out a wrench
Then watched me spell “vingt” with a scowl.
Filed under Poems