Goochsong
 
"Strumpet peptide labia
All across the ocean sea.
Trumpet sounds from baby. A
Most sorrowful thing to be.
A crumpet pumped in gravy. A
Corpuscular term for tea.
A bump, it slumped in habeas,
And baby gang aft aglee."
 
So sings the song of goochkins
When nuzzled by the shore
Whilst twiddling in their pooch skins
(Quoth raven, "Never more.
Though less will do quite nicely
In our wobbly kneedrop dance."
They may intone it twice. The
Young blackbirds drop their pants.)
The gooches march full streaming
As virgins on the way
Must needs resort to screaming
If they're to have their way.
They weigh a scant two puckers,
And goochbeasts are so strong,
Anciliary pluckers
Need not detain them long.
 
But Mama in her labor,
And Bert in his sarong,
Ask cherry trees a favor,
And burn a leather thong.
But gods will not be mocked now,
Nor goddesses in heat.
For rifles are uncocked now,
And dinner only meat.
The goochlings take no stock yet.
They've curtains in their eye.
If someone were to prick it,
They'd sizzle then and die.
But not without protection,
The goochos wear a patch.
They most fear vivisection
Of one or in a batch.
 
Lord Tylenol of Cramford
Is thinking up a stunt
For psychogenic blackbird --
"Straight ramming up the front!"
But Nurse and Twit and Tillie
Are hiding in a box,
And all feel rather silly
Without three pair of socks.
Love's never what we think it
When we do think at all;
The glove's all filled so drink it --
Retrieve the bouncing ball.
"Leviathan," quoth General
Vaselenia from his tub,
"will fertilize the goochlicks."
Aye, but there's the rub.
 
Those starch-pronged mental wealels
Explode with quite a mess.
Officials with their tweezles
Will force them to confess.
But mute they are save squealing,
And squeaky heads to toe.
Through fingers all are stealing
And off their seedlings flow.
"It's not our fault," pled Doctor,
"We were not raised to pee
On mythopoeic creatures
Sans etymology."
The mayor was with his mistress
Until she was not there.
His mare was with his mistress
Removing underwear.
The village dragged out cannon
So they could have a fling,
The spectacle unmannin' --
And goochans all didst sing:
 
"Strumpet peptide labia
All across the ocean sea.
Trumpet sounds from baby. A
Most sorrowful thing to be.
A crumpet pumped in gravy. A
Corpuscular term for tea.
A dump, it humped in habeas,
And baby ate the key."