The Custard Man

Howard was a custard man,
who lived inside a custard can.
The custard man wore a shabby
hat and kept a custard tabby.
Then on June the twenty-third.
as he fed a custard bird
to the cat, it coughed and spat
all over Howard's custard hat.
Howard called the vet and he
said he'd been alarmed to see
his dearest pet, his cat o' custard,
normally a healthy shade of mustard,
had, on eating that awful bird,
gone so white, it looked like curd.
The vet came over, took a taste,
gagged a little and made all haste
to tell his custard friend, Howard,
the custard cat had, in fact, soured.

***

Show me the chump that says only people with a respect for rhythm and metre should be allowed to attempt nonsense verse and I will show you a person who would not have survived in Nijni-Novgorod, even if he/she were a scratch player and had won Abe Mitchell's ribbed-face mashie in the weekend lottery. They would have their putters smashed ceremoniously over their gigantic egos and their golfing licenses revoked. Harsh punishment, you say? I think not.