From: ROFL! <mbarker@MIT.EDU>
Subject:      SUB: Straw Men

Not to be taken seriously...

tink
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Straw Men

Straw men stood on a cold prairie,
Where a Van Gogh sun streaked the sky,
With a why is a why is a why, they sigh,
While the goatboy tells his lie.

True Grit cricks in the enamelled grins,
As the country boys stamp their boots
Where the tumbleweed rolls across the ravine,
And the rain drips, slashes, and hoots.

Straw men burned on a warm prairie,
With the stars all twinkly sweet,
Under that moon where all could swoon,
And we better do it soon.

What about the verse?
Well, it's terse.

end rhyme
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