[ When Harry Met Butters ] Bucket Listing

         
Who's that with a pail in hand          
climbing up the shoreline hilled?          
         
Is that Jack?          
         
Nope    
     
It's just Harry          
         
The bucket he's trying to carry          
back, rocking port to starboard?  
       
Filled with sand, not water          
thus unlikely to be spilled       
     
And, for his beloved Butters;          
the castle she wants to build        
   
Bet you thought I was going to say, Jill          
         
Or maybe even perhaps Jilled          
         
Whatever name you choose          
Jill[ed] certainly was jilted, an ex          
whom Harry had his fill of---          
her being an empty bucket list          
chock full of his wishes unfulfilled

Unlike his newfound love          
who fit him as snugly as a glove          
she was as hairy as Harry!          
         
A redhead too!
 
And if this poem somewhat reeks---
it might be because of the red herring
sharing my neglected, rectangled tank;
Harry hasn't cleaned the darn thing in weeks!           
         
Damn!          
I don't think any of my poems ever rhymed          
as well as this son of beach does          
which to my misfortune is         
giving off a peculiar stank          
of its own ...
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