Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

I have a Russian friend who lives in Minsk

And wears a lofty hat of beaver skinsk,

(Which does not suit a man so tall and thinsk).

He has a frizzly beard upon his chinsk,

And keeps his trousers up with safety pinsk.

“They’re so much better than those thingsk

Called belts and bracekies, don’t you thinksk?”

You’ll hear him say, the man from Minsk.

He has a Polish pal who’s from Gdansk,

Who lives by selling drinksk to football fansk,

And cheese rolls from a little caravansk..

(He finds it pleasanter than robbing banksk.)

He also uses pinsk to hold his pantsk.

“Keep up one’s pantsk with rubber bandsk?

It can’t be donesk! It simply can’tsk!

Not in Gdansk!” he’ll say. “No thanksk!”

They’re so alikesk that strangers often thinsk

That they are brothers, yesk, or even twinsk.

“I live in Minsk but I was born in Omsk,”

Says one. His friend replies. “That’s where I’m fromsk!

Perhapsk we’re brothers after all, not friendsk.”

So they wrote homesk and asked their Mumsk

But found they weren’tsk; so they shook handsk

And left for Minsk, and for Gdansk.