Of claims that I've lost it, well, I'm having none;
I'm bright as a fiddle and fit as the sun.
Say what you will and I give this rebuke,
I'm still cool as rain and as right as a cuke,
and though it may seem I'm perturbed now and then,
wet as a mad beet and as red as a hen,
we'll see when the time comes, as surely it will,
when I'm over the weather and under the hill,
who's down in the moon and who's over the dump,
who was dumb as a tack and who sharp as a stump.

The walrus used to find it nice
to spend their summers on the ice
but not so nice this year they felt,
as all the ice contrived to melt,
and they were forced to reconvene
on land with no space in between,
to loll and fight and contemplate
the broader question of their fate,
but none among them made the link
that people put them on the brink,
and those their fate depended on
stifled yet another yawn.