A and my B curtseys Ahab* --
facing east towards oases now dry.
Call the man 'al-Kitaab.' Greet him: "Marhaba, bab’!"
It's one bright Sunni way to say "Hi!"
* Not Ahab the whaler, of course. Rather, Ahab the Arab.
'Tween my
B and your C? The step basic.
It’s the move which determines the dance --
whether swingout or salsa or box step or bop.
Whatcha waitin' for, Fred? Here’s your chance.
'Twixt your
C and my D creeps a crawdad,
of the family Astacoidea.
It’s called 'crawfish' or 'cray' -- 'spiny lobster,' too. (They
taste tres toothsome in seafood paella.)
'Tween my
D and your E runs a Deere.
"Nothing runs like one, dear!" (So they say.)
But once wilderness yields to agrarian fields,
where the Deere runs, no antelope play.
'Twixt your
E and my F sports an elf --
neither dwarfling, homunculus, toy,
Lilliputian, Tom Thumb, teeny-weeny or minikin:
Pan's just a slow-growing boy.
'Tween my
F and your G grows a fig,
made to mask multitudinous sins --
that's to say, all the naughty bits: A’s and T’s (asses, tits)
Mostly, though, multiple chins.
'Twixt your
G and my H rides a Goth --
as a rule, either Ostro- or Visi-.
But for once, this barbarian's tag's non-sectarian.
This keeps historians busy.
'Tween my
H and your I dwell the Hopi,
with their fab -- absolutely! -- kachina.
(But where'er 'absolutely' and 'fabulous' fuse,
Patsy plots with her patsy Edina.)
'Twixt your
I and my J? Intra-hadj,
i.e., duels to the death among sects --
even Sunni on Sunni and Shi'a on Shi'a:
no wonder their nations are wrecks.
'Tween my
J and your K sails a junk --
like some ships, manned by fly-by-night crew.
Giving captain the slip? That's what's called 'jumping ship.'
Shipping junk’s called ‘FedExing smack’…nu?
'Twixt your
K and my L hides a kernel.
("Colonel Potter? Blimp? Blake? Sanders? Kurtz?
Klink? Gaddafi? Adama? Tigh? Mustard?" -- oh, mama:
please stop! My occipital hurts.
'Tween my
L and your M? Mr. Lem.
Don't confuse him with Stanislaw Lec.
Both are Poles, both great souls but with differing roles.
(Nor is either a certified Czech.)
'Twixt your
M and my N moves a moron.
Why'd the moron steer clear of the bus?
'Cuz the driver -- one Juan -- announced, "Nope! No "more on!"
Said the moron, "Hold on! Let's discuss."
'Tween my
N and your O? Captain Nemo.
Cries a trio of tub men: "Don't throttle us!"
Replies Cap, "Nemo dat what a guy hasn't got."
He then swamps their small tub with his Nautilus.
'Twixt your
O and my P? Alley Oop,
in his day, syndicated Neanderthal.
If you've not seen the funnies, you'll not see this pun: he's
a 'toon -- thus is rendered short and/or tall.
'Tween my
P and your Q? PDQ.
'Twixt your
Q and my R lurks a queer.
'Tween my
R and your S bloom the roses.
'Twixt your
S and my T...
'Tween my
T and your U? Bishop Tutu.
'Twixt your
U and my V? UniBev.
'Tween my
V and your W's* The View.
* Here pronounced in two syllables, as is 'Dubya' (remember him?).
'Twixt your
W* and X waxes wax.
* Once again pronounced as is 'Dubya,' -- i.e., in two syllables.
'Tween my
X and your Y freaks the xany.
'Twixt your
Y and my Z plays the yazz.
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