This is the story of one
Rotten scoundrel
Who slept from a Tuesday to a Friday
In his very own bed.
This is now Saturday, and the rotten scoundrel of
Whom
I speak sits before me (
I say this to the window upon which)
Isn’t he a scoundrel?
There is an answer
The answer is that each time the scoundrel of
Whom we speak gets spoken of, a certain
Malady occurs
Just you wait how rotten that scoundrel can get!
Or else CURTAINS!
