Musing on Moles

[tectak]

Haha! When I read this aloud, the sound of 'moles' becomes 'molls' - that's what we call the tired old whores who still paint up and go out on the weekends. There's a whole other fecund layer to your poem.

Thanks for posting.

Hey...steady on...some of those molls are wives....not mine, of course...but some. Fecund...hmmmmmm?
Best, 
tectak

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a fun read. Really don't need the last line, the lack of sympathy for the buggers is graphically clear. Thanks for posting it.

I hate the little bastards with every sinew of my being with every drop of my blood with every curse I can muster with every £10 I spend for one poxy bag of worms impaled by the Mole Man on my fence...and don't give me that slop about them catching slugs because they come in to scout and leave without.....ggggrrrrrrrrr