Dear Clint,

Your flagallence doth sound a harmony,
with a fragrance stemming from charity,

Take your stomach tricks to the fair,
and win prizes for gastronomic air,

You needeth no beans, the magic fruit,
your a natural when it comes to the toot.

Black Water

With voice like the echoes of gurgling brooks does my love speak.
  In springtime with sunshine and yellow wild-flowers does she make me feel.
  I'll think of her when crash goes the black water.
  And remember my love just before I meet my watery grave.

Saliva

A Scorner sits
From his mouth he spits
Quick judgements:
How horrible art thee!
How lazy to see
What is right!
But the scorner,
Forgets                    
Falls from his perch,
And Lands where he spits.