OK, herewith, for criticism, mockery, suggestions, additions, editing, crediting, fun and frolic, I present the latest proof of my little ditty for the 2010 LGF cookbook.

Comments not only welcome, but solicited.

This blog, like the cookbook, is, after all, a joint effort.

Speaking of joints, could someone fax me some bud?

The Lizards gather for a feast
In Central Park, it seems.
‘Tis not baked ham nor good Roast Beast
On which they feast their dreams.

No, ‘tis gamey buttocks-meats
Of trolls and shrieking harpies.
With demi-glac graced, and treats
Made out of would-be sharpies.

There’s pounded wingnuts,
Moonbat stew,
Ayn Rand, Ron Paul on spits.
With Stormfront goons
Fried through and through
To sharpen their good wits.

The times are tough,
So beans in cans
Help warm lacertoid breeches.
While Stinky armed with ban-stick bans
The mad unwholesome leeches.

The stalkers lurk, the lurkers stalk
While merry the fire rages.
No need to bother with their talk.
We keep on turning pages.

Walter, Weasel, Brookly Red
And Killgore pile the kindling on.
The flames leap up! The theadbare thread
Becomes a thing to think upon.

You think the Center holds no sway
And all good folk are silenced?
Come visit us at dusk of day
And eat and drink sans violence.

The Right and Left all stand aghast
That such a thing can be:
Folks of all hues join in repast,
And let their troubles be.

In good times and in hard you’ll find
A welcome here, my friend.
Just don’t start trolling your behind -
Or on the spit you’ll end.