Fewer By The Minute

A nonsense poem about a poets' convention which features a rapidly diminishing cast list and increasingly bizarre methods for their dispatch.

Max Scratchmann

Poets’ Convention

Twenty poets went to rhyme all on a summer’s day,
But two fell down a rabbit hole whilst going out to play.

Eighteen poets went to rhyme one rainy afternoon.
But ten fell down a wishing well whilst trying to rhyme with spoon.

Eight brave poets went to rhyme one sunny day in May,
But six were drafted off to war and couldn’t have their say.

Two fair poets went to rhyme that fateful eventide,
But one was eaten by a wolf and ended up inside.

One last poet went to rhyme as the evening sky grew dark,
But then he spied a bonny lass and snogged her in the park.