The Poet of Maine
There once was a poet from Maine,
Who wrote every line in the rain.
Her ink ran away,
laughing in play,
And called every puddle a stain.
She lived in the village of Otter Creek,
Loved to write, but she was meek
So she wrote a silly book,
Full o’ jokes worth a look,
Throw her some cash—take a peek.
Weathered Mainers Book of Nonsense
In the harbor town of Nonsensia Bay,
The fog rolls in and decides to stay,
It’s a mastermind move,
That locals can’t improve,
Until the tourists all drift away.
The locals speak with half a drawl,
With lobsters plenty through it all,
The tourists think we say
Ayuh, it’s our day!
When we don’t talk like that at all!
WoPoLi 
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