There's a Quazooy on the loosey!
In my roomy there is. No fooey.
No fooey a Quazooy, loosey, really?
What's the Quazooy do-y?
Silly Quazooy dancey on deskies.
Dancey, Nancy, fancy pantsies!

Quazooy, want somey Tutti fruity?
Snooty Quazooy no eaty fruity.
What do-y Quazooy wanty?
"No eaty," said droopy Quazooy.
Quazooy sicky? Have the fluy?

"Quazooy no more fancy Dancey.
Quazooey needy tummy rubby."
Awe-y, cutie Quazooy no more dancey,
no eaty fruity, likey tummy rubby.
Now Quazooey tummy grumbly,
Facey lookies redy and crumbly.

Few wee! Quazooey now I knowy!
No more desky fancy dacey,
Not Tutti fruity, 'cause youy
wenty tooty in your pantsies!
Now Quazooy once morey dancey.
Fancy Nacey pantsy dancey.
Luvy Quazooy nowy not ooyie!

How to write ones final words? How find the will to carry on?
When I know this ship and all - all of this - will soon be gone.
Yet perhaps, if not my bones, at least my memories will be found
Amid the wreckage of a land where none but swaying palms abound.
So may the finder of this bottle bring these words I duly pen
To the family of the sailor - Kieran Dacey Boylan -
Though my body lies in rest beneath the roiling of the sea -
Know my soul forever soars above the verdant Irish lea.