Something about this post title screams dirty poem.
There one was a man from Wallingford
Who himself, was a bit of a wild card…
He built a clock full of gears
Then chugged a few of beers
And shouted “I’m Dick, and I’m hard!”There once was a man from Wallingford
One day he found himself a bit bored
So he built a clock
On the base of his cock
And now they call him Dick Gear-lord
The Abbot of Wallingford’s flock,
Built a Mechanical Clock,
His ultimate goal,
Was the “winding up” hole,
Which he operated using his small keyThere once was an Abbot called Rick,
Who had a mechanical trick,
A timekeeping gear,
Was affixed to his rear,
And the chimes were attached to his noseHmm, unless anyone can think of anything that rhymes with “clock” or “Rick”, I can’t really think of a way to make these sound rude.
A monk well ahead of his time
Planned a clock that could measure the sky
But Cromwell, the shit,
Tore the whole thing to bits
I can’t think of a finishing rhyme
Was it right more than two times per day?
