Before, Miss Mupp, you flub it up,
you might just write it down.
you might just write it down.
Is it, when blurbs cry out for verbs,
not craft to draft a noun...?
As tragedy expands, you'll see
it's no mean feat to clown.
Nor be you keen on bein' green
when all you've been is brown.
You can't abide the countryside,
but fled the dreaded town.
If pennies bought one tender thought,
how many'd buy a crown...?
When silly isles engender smiles,
which landscapes spawn a frown...?
Would you be saved had you but waved...?
Or were you sure to drown...?
