On Mungday, as my beansprouts
bloom
forlornly in the morning room,
I weigh, as warps and woofs my loom,
if whom be who or who be whom.
On Juiceday when my kumquats come
(on sale I saw, so order’d some),
I ponder while I "Up!" my thumb
if from be to or to be from.
On When?sday (When?sday’s where it’s
at),
in situ where your nibs once sat,
I puzzle, in said habitat,
if that be this or this be that.
On Thirstday (Juiceday came and
went,
and with it Juiceday's tuppence spent)
I seek in vain, in the event,
to know precisely what is meant.
On Frightday, ‘less I lose my wits
(Advance the ball...? Or call it quits…?),
I’m quick to query Uncle Fitz
if tits be tats or tats be tits.
On Satyrday, as fauns bounce back
to pimp each nymphomaniac,
I wish to this dispute unpack:
“Be ‘lack alas or ‘las alack…?”
On Sungday, once my po'm's been penn’d,
I settle back and phone a friend
to see if, pair'd, we comprehend:
Be end begin...? Begin be end...?
forlornly in the morning room,
I weigh, as warps and woofs my loom,
if whom be who or who be whom.
(on sale I saw, so order’d some),
I ponder while I "Up!" my thumb
if from be to or to be from.
in situ where your nibs once sat,
I puzzle, in said habitat,
if that be this or this be that.
and with it Juiceday's tuppence spent)
I seek in vain, in the event,
to know precisely what is meant.
(Advance the ball...? Or call it quits…?),
I’m quick to query Uncle Fitz
if tits be tats or tats be tits.
to pimp each nymphomaniac,
I wish to this dispute unpack:
“Be ‘lack alas or ‘las alack…?”
I settle back and phone a friend
to see if, pair'd, we comprehend:
Be end begin...? Begin be end...?
