mushroom poetry

We are old
We have no teeth
We swallow what we chew
We chew up all the swallows
Then we excrete the swallows
Poor swallows - they do not fly
once they were out of us.

Quote by The Hoegbottom Guide To The Early History Of The City Of Ambergris
If this is indeed mushroom dweller poetry, then we must conclude that either the translator, under stress and with insufficient light, did a less than superlative job, or that the mushroom dwellers had a spectacular lack of poetic talent.

This is on the level of Vogon poetry, Grunthos the Flatulent's "Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning" and the twelve book epic "My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles," and several thousand of the poems found on Bigotboards, which, I guess, is the result of extreme levels of singlemindedness manifested into poetry form.

The Ode:
Putty. Putty. Putty.
Green Putty - Grutty Peen.
Grarmpitutty - Morning!
Pridsummer - Grorning Utty!
Discovery..... Oh.
Putty?..... Armpit?
Armpit..... Putty.
Not even a particularly
Nice shade of green.