What a surprise
I ran through Jiminy Cricket,
And, clearly, he said, “here’s the ticket.”
Of influence, that I had thought clearly about
Thoroughly convincing, a Randolph
A piercing a threshold of tauts
Though it was not his fault
“I am at fault, I am at fault, I am clearly at fault,”
About a thought punching me in my face
“I guess I’ll buy some salt
I know it won’t give me grace, he argued” three ways
And all the ladies together
Warned fluidly, by thought, the manager
Of the place, whenever
They scolded the deavers.
