Contibution to Mr. Ed's Where's Andy Poetry Festival.
May the gods help us to find him and when we do, that the old english basilisk have a bout of good humor.
Our Den's gracious ladies are invited to participate in the friendly bashing of our lost cousin.

My brother Mr. Ed has told me
about a very distant cousin,
a batty one that’s dwelling
across the big Atlantic sea,
from our Plymouth Rock in a
island of people with not teeth.

Oh may! Oh may! Disappeared,
Oh dear Andy…where’s he?
a search has been launched,
and over thousand beds we see
the spoils of love left behind,
yes! is true , our Andy was here.

We found a lot of talkative witness,
he’s considered the dames favorite,
on the run from flower to flower
always like an horny bumblebee,
leaving many moaning in the dark,
even an old goat, would you believe?

So, where’s Andy? I hope you could
tell us where that dirty rascal can be,
you can’t missed if he passed by,
he holds his cigar like Winston and Bill
he has his ways inside their boudoirs,
if the ladies don’t smoke…they will!!!!