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~~~ Arabian Nights ~~~
~ Arabian Nights ~
Ali Baba, sulks and grieves,
His sycophantic, forty thieves;
For in their baskets, made of wicker,
Abound dark clowns, that fight, and bicker,
For lebensraum, a place to stay,
Can only squat, not stand this day.
Now space is tight for cooped up farce,
Two panto men, one head, the arse;
Weaved lid slides off, one takes a peek,
To see if he can hide that Sheikh.
There’s two for one, within strawed vase,
Thin Stan, is squashed by Hugh Fat Jars;
Next door, Hussein, requires more room,
As Nat does whistle his raspberry tune.
Now why’s Asif, in such a hurry?
Could be, Sherif repeats his curry.
The Genie’s palour, is getting paler,
Being rubbed, by blind, Sinbad the Sailor;
He thinks he’s wishing, 'pon a lamp,
Turns out, he’s goosed bald gaseous tramp.
Brave Jason and his Argonauts,
Have fleeced these thieves of golden thoughts,
They've sent them into, disarray,
That’s why they share their homes this day.
Poor Ali Baba’s blown a gasket,
His friends now share, two, to a basket;
So where’s his famous, forty thieves?
There’s twenty now, that’s why he grieves.