A Tale of Two Citizens
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.
from Evidence of Elephants (Viking, 1995), © Gerard Benson 1995, used by permission of the author