The moths are eating my jumpers!

The moths are eating all my woolly jumpers
They’ve already destroyed my favourite two
Munching holes that’ll make them that much plumper
Like tiny flying cows, their cud to chew.
 
My clothing is the picnic where they mate
Champagne and strawberries, cream on top, divine
With gusto they spread the blanket on the plate
And raise to their lips a woolly glass of wine
 
But I’ve nice clothing so that I get some
Holier clothing doesn’t work as well
Making me look as if I’m from a slum
A scruffy bit of rough, no pipistrell.
 
For some bizarre reason the ladies desire tidy
(Although they like a bit of rough sometimes!)
Though my credentials are quite bonafide
The holes contradict and they hear as the bell chimes
 
So I’ve to springclean, open all my drawers
Pull everything out, give it a good shake
Extinct all the moths, kill them, this is war!
Moth Spanish Armada? I’m Sir Francis Drake!
 

This was the 3rd poetry exercise

This exercise was to write 16 unrhymed lines of iambic pentameters (rhymed seemed more fun though) – using:

“pyrrhic” substitutions (two unaccented, short syllables) and

“trochaic” substitutions (in a line of verse that normally employs iambic meter, trochaic substitution describes the replacement of an iamb by a trochee), and

weak endings (at the end of the usual heroic (iambic pentameter line) add an unstressed syllable/word)

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