Thalia and Calliope, those quantum-leaping minxes
Are here again from Dublin Town and Willingdone's Museyroom,
From romping with the ghost of Joyce
Among the little sphinxes.
The Iron Duke was not amused so
They locked him in the tea room.
"Three quarks for Mushter Marx!" they sing.
They find the "Wake" amoozin',
I guess so would the rest of us
If it all warn't so confoozin'.
They're bossin' me around again,
Those naughty nymphy witches,
If I don't make some poems for them
They'll cover me with itches.
Puccini from the opera trudged
From Pisa back to Lucca.
His heart and soul were all in flames,
Just like a Spitfired Stuka.
Me too. Cupid's dart hit me so hard
It left a cratered puka.
I felt that I'd been Sidewinded
Or shot by a bazooka,
Or staggered by a straight right hand,
From mighty Joe Palooka,
Knocked Through the Looking Glass into
The Caterpiggle's hookah.
Violets are violet,
Fuchsias fuchsia.
I love you much better
Than Verdi's "Lucia"
Tigers have stripes,
But leopards are spotty,
Let's get together
And do something naughty.
Mountains are high,
The oceans abyssal,
If you want me, just blow through
This gold-plated whistle.
Deserts are dry,
Marshes are mucky,
I'd wouldn't trade you
For the State of Kentucky.
If you were mine
I'd never divorce ya,
I'd treat you mo' bettah
Than Caesar did Porsche.
Josephus had a mighty beak,
And so did Cleopatra,
But every classic Roman knows
It didn't really matra.
Saint Valentine was celebate
And braver than a lion,
He infiltrated prisons where
He eased the martyrs' dyin'.
How did we get from there to here
Hell-diving down a well?
It's something known to God alone,
And She's not about to tell.