Poetry Tuesday: Li Sons D’un Cornet

Anonymous French from almost 1000 years ago. Can’t help but wonder if Lewis Carroll ever saw this. . .

The note of a trumpet was eating the heart of a thunderbolt with vinegar
When a dead hobnail caught the course of a star in a bird-trap.
In the air there was a grain of rye, when the barking of a roasting spit
And the stump of a piece of cloth found a worn-out fart and cut off its ear.



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