There was this one chap who, after every thought he had,
would to himself silently say, “Sic”.
(At first hearing this sounds pretty promising and clever,
but all-in-all, I’m not sure what good he made of it…are you?)
More Zoological Hints For The Inward Bound:
You can baby-talk and berate your pet rhino
until Saint Hoffa returns,
but it’ll still never learn
to fetch your paper.
(I do assume, that many of you, can now hear
that which can first sound as a negative note,
yet offers an intro to a most useful little ditty.)
One way to throw ‘em all off-guard
is to “Sing To Your Troubles”…
(This is especially good done passionately, with a terrible voice.)
In City prisons all pardons come too late;
for you’ve either already been executed
or else, forgave yourself, just before the governor called.
After three comes four;
After four comes five;
After that…you’d better check back with me.