New Years Predictions

In twelve months named for Roman Gods,

We will discover new arthropods,

Their antics voiced in dulcet tones,

While forty sheep will meet their clones,

A scientific major feat,

And hotpots never short of meat,

Meanwhile we really must discuss,

What use is God to modern us?

We don’t need him to feed and bless,

We could be watching Masterchef!

And no real books for heaven’s sake,

Those pages give my hand an ache,

My major aim for year one three,

Consume the world’s supply of brie,

Cuz I heard lactose makes you thin,

And improves the look of armpit skin,

(Self confidence can be rebuilt,

With clearer skin and diet guilt),

While Jupiter and mars align,

Us Capricorns are on cloud nine,

It’s up and up from here on out,

You’ll catch that 50 pounder trout,

The planets say we’ll beat the squeeze,

And find some shoes to slim those knees,

But also mention meteors,

Raining down in scores and scores,

Falling fast like burning snow,

Killing everyone below.


About Gwen and Elinor

Two bloging buddies who love tea and biscuits.
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