My shoes lack ventilation,
And yet the emanation
Of stink is not impeded.
An Odor Shield(TM) is needed. 

 

 

 

"You really ought to go to bed,"
Said Andrew to his sleepy head.
"But if I do," the head replied,
"How will I find the perfect bride?"

"Oh, silly head," said Andrew back,
"You really think your current tack
Will find her ere the night is past?
The sea is oh so very vast!"

"Hey Andrew, man, you blew the tone.
You "ere"'d and now the mood is blown.
You're slipping into crappy rhyme.
Relax, step back, and take your time."

"I can't, thou head! It's getting late!
Time presseth me to conjugate!
Art tired, thou art, should'st get to bed,
Thou orn'ry little balding head!"

"Oh man, you're makin' readers sick!
Who reads that kinda crack? Now quick,
Slow down and try to make it flow
Without the funky grammar show."

"Hey, I could(st?) write a better verse
Tomorrow. You just make it worse
By staying up and missing sleep.
The wind you sow. The whirlwind reap!"

"I'll tell you what. If you will stop,
I'll wrap things up and you can plop
Yourself and me straight into bed.
Good night now, peoples!"

Signed,

The Head