Grimbeau

Not writing thus read
Goes the old threshing machine
Inside out workings
Belching, churning, lurching with
All the bits showing
Like Norman Foster
Or the Duke of Kent thanking
Ball boys and ball girls
For their servile services
Perhaps if he wore a floral hat
Like his smiley wife
It might brighten things up
Cut the military kit
If it’s nice out wear no clothes
Watch out for that wild fanbelt
And the people in smocks
Sporting giant pitchforks
Tripping on ergot
In the antic hay
And the grumpy teenager
With the machete