Bad Humor

Great Books Class
Bad Poetry
Nathaniel, Abby, Logan, Claire

Now listen good people,
And hear me tell,
The tragic tale of Attila the Bun,
Hero of the commons.

There once was a city, Geneva,
A European Union of United Nations
Gathered to have a convention,
With noble Jack Iraq the 14th.

Their convention's objective
Was inventing new torture,
Namely, to panic.
Or so thought the commons.

Panic was the reaction of the commons,
But one Attila the Bun
Was too dumb to panic
He baked his pastries and tastries.

Attila, he also made
Cookies of terrible smell
To solve his addiction
To mustard.

But alas! The panic that convention ensued!
The chief cause of panic was
That none entering the castle
Had ever returned.

Attila the Bun
Went on a run,
To deliver his pastries
To the dreadful nobles.

Attila entered the convention
And smelled the greatest smell.
He saw a pile of bones and heard
The sound of munching.

Further investigating,
Attila discovered behind the bare bones,
Jack Iraq the 14th,
Eating turkey and hurling bones.

With Jack Iraq sat
Some good people:
Dear friends, three friends,
Of Attila the Bun.

The youngest was a Viking Bowman,
Strong, and of good aim.
Short and stout with a steady hand,
His strength had won him fame.

The next, Attila's brother. In fact, his twin.
Grown up together
They both a-chewin'
Fine mustard cookies. Yum.

The last, a hobbit,
That lived in a Hoel.
A light haired and light aired
Sure one was he.

These three sat
With Jack Iraq the 14th
And on their laps they were holding
Plates, and bowls, and cups, and cutlery.

In these were fowl,
Soups, and English tea,
And now to a saucer,
Attila placed his pastries and sweet tastries.

"Stay! Eat! Be merry!"
Said the good Jack Iraq.
"We wish not for needless wars,
But for needful peace."

Attila, alas! He was too dumb.
He smiled and bowed, said he would come later.
Then he skipped out the door
And called the town crier.

"Go!" He said, "Tell the people!
Gather the small and the tall
To my pastry shop,
And I'll give you a penny."

The crier ran and yelled as he went
"Foes! Famine! Flood! Go to Attila the Bun!
Meet him at the pastry shop!
It's at the corner of the square!"

The people they ran, in a hurry they were,
To see what had happened.
With pitchforks and knives,
With tin pans and horns, they ran.

There Attila did greet them.
"Put your forks down!
And your horns away!
This is no war, but peace I say.

"Let us go to the castle
And there let us eat!
These good kings
Have prepared us a treat!"

So leaving their weapons
The people, they ran
To the castle they went
They ooed and they aahed

Impressed so they were
To see such abundance,
Such great wonder
At this time of the year.

So Attila the Bun became a hero.
But this was not to last long, I fear.
For dear Attila, he curled up and died
From O.D.ing on sugar, and that, from a pie.

Special Thanks to Nano, Abby, and Logan, who were willing to be so weird and write oddities with me. I don't know if they know this is here.....

~A City