Once a fellow, most poor, from Calcutta
ate his meals from the bins and the gutter
closed his eyes, fantasised
as ate leftover pies
vindaloo, mouldy bread, maggot butter
Tttttuesday limerick.
Count your blessings!
Count your blessings!
Once a fellow, most poor, from Calcutta
ate his meals from the bins and the gutter
closed his eyes, fantasised
as ate leftover pies
vindaloo, mouldy bread, maggot butter
Afterwards 
And another hearty…ew.
But I marvel at your limerickabilty. Boggles and delights the mind.
Mostly lol
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Its the diabolic yin to my aspiringly poetic yang
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You know what…I absolutely get that.
Well said, sir
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