Hard a Lee!

They were uniformly chubby
Never slim, and often tubby
Were those sailors docking at that little port

Serendipitously cheerful
They could fill up quite an earful
As they told their tales (with chuckles and a snort)

Of the meals that they had eaten
Chickens fried and biscuits beaten
Masticated by the bushel and the quart

Of the drinks that they had swallowed
Smorgasbords where they had wallowed
Pausing only to inhale a cherry torte

And digestion reigned quiescent
Never need for effervescent.
Eating was, in fact, the shared collective sport

Dyspepsia so unknown that
the slim and not so slim: the fat
flocked there as if it were a Turkish porte

But though this town was famous
it was also, oddly, nameless
Til a busybody went down to the court

Where the lawyers yakked and clamored
And by their threats they seemed enamored
With the notion of a motion for a tort

Laid against this nameless village
(thus its coffers, surely pillage)
So the citizens, they gathered to abort

This legal bit of doo doo
Thus to wish god speed and adieu
To this problem; when a well fed man named Mort

(Quite the largest of those yeomen.
Also something of a something showman:
Adiposity itself, with visage swart)

Placed his surname in the running
For the naming, thereby stunning
Those embroiled,and future problems neatly thwart

Mort's handle was a kicker
as a name it's been a sticker
for his cogomen was apt and it was short

The Port is Lee, unless objecting
Voices say it’s disrespecting
to the citizens with weight of any sort!

Maggie Creshkoff
5/4 and 5/11/2010 and 5/14/10