Nor is it China’s bard Li Po. Of Li...? But "leetle" one can know.
Perhaps it’s Hamlin’s Alley Oop. (Do cavemen sing...? I'm sure they poop.)
It’s not stigmata’d Padre Pio, seen -- in sync! -- 'round Rome and Rio.
Can Olive Oyl (it ain't spelt ‘Oil’) who’s Swee-Pea’s “mum” and Popeye’s “goil,”
emit one note from either lip...? Or is Oyl just a comic strip...?
Perhaps it’s
Edith Piaf. Oui. The Little
Sparrow’s bel esprit...?
Quite perfect –
present-, past- and plu-. (Would Edith P appeal to you...?)Some Galilean moon -- say, Io (not Nebraska, not Ohio).
Might it be the source, ask I...? Does song descend from up that high...?
I must admit that Io’s up. But is it too far up there...? Yup!
(My Poetry Potential Pool is quickly drying up. Uncool!)
Bud Abbott
has a buddy Lou. Is singing
something Lou could do...?
(Who doesn’t sing when in the loo...? You do it. Yeah, I do it, too.)
This verse’s
end I’m set to lop. Somewhere, such nonsense has to stop.(Who doesn’t sing when in the loo...? You do it. Yeah, I do it, too.)
I’m peckish, too. A dab of poi would hit the spot. Char sui...? Oh, boy!
Who sings this… Wait! I sense a loop. Repeat...? That low I’ll never stoop.
‘Twould vex my pals from Oulipo. They'd malmouth me 'cross Mexico.
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