There has to be disharmony said the
man with the harpsichord and the barrel
***** played as the pet monkey swayed and the handle turned back to the start.
In the rush to begin the mad grin of the old man stood out by a mile and the smile on the face of the other in the race was wiped clean by the starter who fired the gun, tunes ran through the long queue of men who smoked pipes like they still were in style and the thrill of the chase was not lost in the pace as the tunes ran on in the night,
in the morning when flagging the tunes started lagging behind, but the monkey being blind saw nothing at all and heard only the barrel ***** grind.
The harpsichord man drew a sword and he ran just a little bit faster that day,
no monkey
no sway
no *****
no grind
no body to find,
disharmony wins the day.