Only thrice in my life did I wind up with fleas
I then asked for advice from the low-hanging trees
"Oh good sir, not these
No advice from the trees
Without paying my massiveness,
"I'm not paying fees!" said my sad swollen knees
Who's voice had been rubbed wrong from swallowing bees
"Who spoke?" spoke the trees with their arms raised to seize
"We did!" said my morally sad swollen knees
"But kneecaps you are for little old czar,
Who's gameplay of sublets is only subpar.
Take off those snow masks and reveal who you are!"
My knees then bent back and then brought out a stack
Of books, papers, bungalows, lamb on a rack
"Oh man!" said my spine that was not a straight line
"I've never before had to drink all my brine!"
Then the swine tried to fine my incapable spine
With words, wisdom, newspapers, coins that won't shine
And its only way to convince me to stay
(Though stay I will without a bill:
A drill to fill up my fill)
Is to crawl on all fours through the red-wooden doors,
And to eat on the feet that walk steps to meet
A man with a hat and cigar-smoking cat
Who can play a tune grey with string, sticks and hay:
Yet better to pine and distill us some wine
With grapes, nectars, daffodils, summer squash vine
"Your not making sense
Like a garden hose fence!
For the time that you've wasted you owe us two-pence!"
No cash in my pocket, no list on my docket
I escaped my fate on a double-Schwinn Rocket