He wouldn't compose a cantata,
A symphony, song, or sonata:
     The best of his best
     Is a piece that's one rest,
Played f and with a fermata.

There once was a man from Bombay
Who enjoyed a remarkable day:
     It started at sunrise
     When the sun chose to unrise,
And it ended when Earth rolled away.

There once was a man from Mumbai
Whose face had the laziest eye:
     It opened at noon
     While the other as soon
As the sun rose was focused and spry.

There once was a woman from Norway
Who'd hang by her toes in the doorway.
     She went to her dude
     And his friends in the ****
And requested a fjordian fjour-way.

There once was a guru of Ind
Who fasted and rapidly thinned.
     They offered him Gogurt:
     He said, "That's not yogurt!"
And broke—in disgustedness—wind.

This heirloom china wants to slip
Out of my tremulous grip.  
But plastic’s less heavy,
And nicely holds gravy.  
It bounces if ever you trip.

There once was a man on the Moon
Who dined with a runcible spoon.
     The dinner was splendid,
     And when it was ended
They played with a rainbow balloon.

There once was a man from Kilkenny
Who purchased a pipe for a penny,
     Then filled it with wacky
     And woolly tobacky,
And smoked himself dumb at four:twenny.

There once was a man with a flu
Who ran in the night to the loo:
     He stubbed all his toes
     In consecutive rows
While filling his knickers with poo.