Prune is tender and juicy,
Yet in its core hides a pit,
So hard, can break a tooth in one bite,
The plains of Mars look crimson from afar,
Or is just poorly equipped human eye?
Snoot swam there on the back of big Belen,
So pray child, to the whale’s wisdom listen,
The pilgrims thrive in an olympian mouth.
There was a Whale from the Sargasso Sea
A big blue whale no one could see
She stroke a deal
To break her ordeal
Now she’s the star of a Japanese meal.
The blue Man gives another spin to thy quest
Art is your journal of your world, of your societies, of your lives. It is your record of history. It has been your record of history long before you engaged alphabets. (Chuckles) Long before you engaged written words, art has always been your journal of history, and it continues to be now. The Blue Man E.
For our enjoyment you may offer us a limerick about a friend at your market.