The jobsworth from the City Council,
Issued Elle a penalty and fixed fine,
He told her what she did was illegal,
She had to vacate the beach hut by nine,
She could not sell sea shells by the sea shore!
A young lad on his way to market,
Was accosted by some ruffians along the way,
They took the birds he was carrying,
As they left they heard the lad say,
I am not the pheasant plucker, I am the pheasant pluckers son!
Along the lane down past Prattle Street,
Where berries grow large in the sun,
The birds had a veritable feast for sure,
And berries left there were none,
So Peter Picked a peck of pickled peppers instead!
The sound was shrill to my uneducated ears,
The harmony was missing you see,
I went in search of that awful din,
And I laughed at the sight that met me,
A tutor teaching two tooters to toot!
There was a pungent odour in the air that day,
Drifting on the wind so they said,
I closed all the wondows and bolted the doors,
And took myself back to my bed,
I never smelled a smelt that smelled like that smelt smelled!
Wandering back home, his head in the clouds,
Peter came upon a woman he knew,
She asked how much were his pickled peppers,
So Peter offered to sell her a few.
Perspicacious Polly Perkins purchased Peter’s product!
Paddy and Geordie were enjoying a drink,
When old Jock came staggering drunkenly by,
They asked old Jock what time it would be,
And were dumbfounded when they got his reply,
‘It’s a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht’
The above twister is an old Scottish saying [alledgedly] and means,
Its a cold bright moonlit night tonight, or thereabouts.