Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend me your ears. A goblin has dredged a crevice in mine, Which pretty little pixies traverse to mine. Cats in pyjamas of summer polkas and stripes, Flat-bottomed, egg-bottomed, blown round and wide, They're minding their business, you'd be happy to hear, I'd be too, if it weren't in my ear. Frogs and dormice in attire to commend, A mish-mash of retro and the current trend, So if you hear a splash, or a splosh or a squash Or a crunch or the slurp of crimson squid-broth, My dear, didn't they teach you, it's stark rude to peer, Into the depths, well, of a not-so-ordinary ear. Witches and wizards and angels and fairies, They won't be dancing to samba at Prairies, They've all just made bed -and turned on the light, And I'll tell you where, for ask you well might, A glimpse of my head, and a glance left and right, That's just bulbs of argon with a slight ignite. Granny and Grandpa are going gaga, ...