There was a young parson named Bings

I heard Stephen Fry recite this on a recent episode of qi. A little different from the poems of the last couple days, but variety is the spice of something or other.

There was a young parson named Bings,
Who talked about God and such things;
But his secret desire
Was a boy in the choir,
With a bottom like jelly on springs.



Highs in the 20sF today & snow overnight. Yay! Might toddle down to the Ashmont station a little later to pick up caffeine stimulant beans at Flat Black. Tootling & stitching on tap as well.