Pickled Prescience

Pick a peck of pickled peppers
Pack them in a purple pot.
Pour a pint of Pinot on them
Pious? We are not.

Pipe the pirate from his perch
Then pin him right in place.
Pinch him till he pees his pants,
And the pitchman pleads his case.

Planetisimal secrets ply
The parlor, cold and dim.
But the peppers in their pot await
The prankster, and the prim.