Hey Auntyny Albanese, Uncle Prakash Saint Paul is greasy!: A poem 

Hey dear Auntyny Albanese! 

Does your belly ever feel queasy? 

Does P for Pisces, Paul Prakash, please ye? 

Does treachery against me, re-lease ye? 

Do you and Prakash Saint Paul foam at your mouth 

like the deep sea does all throughout? 

Can you actually win without 

your uncle complicity Prakash Saint Paul, undoubt? 

And your merry ferry of laborers are so very 

In fact, so very red-faced as cherry 

So bleary to me, gives me misery 

And I suffer so much; due credit to my bravery! 

You know, I sow, but due to sore Prakash Saint Paul, I cannot reap 

And I sure don’t want to fall in the deep 

Please, please, Prakash Saint Paul you keep! 

That the moon tugs the ocean, to me is crab and creep!