Who can say what rhymes with the marvelous pizza?
Surely that is only the Empress of Russia: the czaritza!
But those secrets are long gone, not even stored in Vinnytsia,
and it’s not even clear if the Empress even ate pizza.
West of her bones, in Montenegro the great city of Podgorica
sits below the cypress hill: ask Radmila ’cause that rhymes with pizza.
And there some may play the moveable frets of a tamburitza,
a long-necked lute, which would well accompany the eating of pizza.
On the day of the party those pizza-phobes may watch he or she who eats a
cheesy, goodly, gooey comestible that IS, surely, a pizza.
That will be a bright day and on that same day an oven Friar Tuck treats a
hungry crowd (none wearing a shroud nor sporting a frowd) to many a pizza.
So mark in your calendar where a big pizza pie meets a
sky you know when to lunch with more than one pizza.
I should stop there but a poet (Laureate) never knows when he completes a
poem. Especially one about the great, grand, going, going, gone pizza.
Golbing 