Oft methinks a pressure is nigh,
Whitherward I go, only god knows.
Tarry not, quick a pot,
Lo thrice betwixt a loo it flows.
Mellow yellow alack seed black,
Masala beans henceforth no.
Hark a wind, a tune of yore,
Sulphurous the abode verily so.
Devoid of mirth, pot bellied girth,
Folly and woe, ere twice more.
Verily the goodly gods on the cloud,
Gape their rear prithee haply before.
Super holy I am, lo I birth a yam,
A gift gods give nimrods.
A river behold holy liquid gold,
Hence a temple this my pod.
