On my travels such was my plight,
Did Gulliver or Passepartout with all their might,
Slip in a puddle in broad daylight
Were they bait, to such a trait,
In their Sunday best waiting for a suitor
Who would pronounce romance truer
The mishap with the hair
That turned bald and bare…
Thinking of the worlds miseries…
Had there been no fisheries
No salmon and no trout
To bring about a prick in the mouth;
With the writing to bleed Promising a bond in a deed.