There once was a poet in a garret
Who lived all alone with his parrot.
I regret his verse
It grew steadily worse
Until he was murdered by his parrot!
There once was a poet in a garret
Who lived all alone with his parrot.
I regret his verse
It grew steadily worse
Until he was murdered by his parrot!
When an old man driving a hearse
Went and composed a very poor verse,
A corpse named Ted
Said, “I am dead!
But I still object to poor verse!”