There once was a player named Morgan
Who played all day long with his *****:
He played with it majorly,
Sadistically, and ragerly,
That claw-handed, hairy-palmed Morgan.
There once was a confident nudist,
The rudest of nudists, and lewdest,
Who'd offer a toot
On his flesh-and-bone flute,
Declaring he'd make you a flutist.
There once was a wandering hobo
Who wandered from NoBo to SoBo
Whilst whistling merrily,
Gladly, and verily
Mozart's concerto for oboe.
— The End —