A hard-drinking fellow, one morn, Felt standard libations were worn. With magnesium milk He mixed ***** or ilk. Thus was the 'Phillips Screwdriver' born.
An atopic young lass used to sing, "I'm allergic to 'most everything. When my skin isn't itching, My nostrils are twitching. I can't wait for new pollens this spring."
Some cannibals thought it quite queer That a verse-spouting judge showed no fear. When ready to dine, They hung up a sign Which read: 'Poetic justice served here.'