Twentych

These poems have started a trend
And they've driven me quite round the bend —
Oh my God! What a blow!
It's sixteen in a row,
So I think at this point I shall end.

There once was a piece of old toast
Which thought it had spotted a ghost
It looked south and north
It ran back and forth
But couldn't decide which it liked most.
    (dictated to Liz)

There was an old man known as Bill
Who croaked without leaving a will
It was puzzling, 'cos
No one knew who he was
So they pulped him through a paper-mill.

There once was a basket of eggs
Which had several flexible legs
Though it walked with them bent
This was clearly not meant
For its eyesight, and so it wore specs.

There once was a hairy old Sasquatch
Who fell into a bucket of whitewash
It got covered in paint
And yelled, "Happy I ain't,
'Cos this poem's a load of old hogwash!"

(20 in a row...)