Unfinished Melody for Righteous Fathers
I began composing a poem for Father’s Day and midstream decided against it. For some reason, I simply got bored and decided to work on a commission instead. If you’d like to finish the poem for me, you can:
Our father, who farts in our den,
Hallowed be thy game.
By halftime come,
Thy will be done.
The score is zip to seven.
Give us this day our daily beer
And give us backstage passes…
Oh, and many apologies for my poor Catholic upbringing.
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8 thoughts on “Unfinished Melody for Righteous Fathers”
Brilliant. The only thing I would substitute is "O’Douls" for "beer".
Hi,
I dont know how it works out there, Just tryin.
Our father, who farts in our den,
Hallowed be thy game.
By halftime come,
Thy will be done.
The score is zip to seven.
Give us this day our daily beer
And give us backstage passes,
Blessed be us,
To view thy color of thee underwear.
Finish thy night,Not so hollowed,
To make you Hallowed more,
With a dame/dude near,
A bit more than view of the underwear.
lol, that is hilarious. 🙂
How does this sound.
Our father, who farts in our den,
Hallowed be thy game.
By halftime come,
Thy will be done.
The score being zip to seven.
Give us this day our daily beer
And forgive our team’s poor passes,
As we’ll discuss how they scored against us,
And our exodus from humiliation
But Domino’s is delivering some pizza
Amen
I was tempted to throw a Hail Mary in there but I think that may have been a little too much.
Bravo!! Good one! 😀
I have no clever way to finish the poem, but I wanted to comment anyway… Since my father has gone on to the great superbowl in the sky, I took my mom out to lunch and wished her a happy fathers day since she has fulfilled both roles for 10 years.
Oh, Broch. That’s so sweet! 🙂
Memories still waiting,
your little girl’s now dating.
You choose pigskin and laces,
As replacement to our little faces.
Your heart has room for only one,
Damn, too bad 3 trys and no son.
I send my condolence to your plight,
Maybe your soldiers flow light.
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