The Ballad of ABC

In the wild and woolly, way-out Web,
in a bar called ABC,
the poets came out with a grunt and a shout
at Skunky and Crackers and me.

The pianist loon plinked a homely tune-
a dirge about Booby Mc Fee-
They'd detected the smell of a poor villanelle
on Skunky or Crackers or me.

While up at the bar, TC had a jar
with Footsie and discussed the trochee
and Macjoyce shared a joke with a womanish bloke
about Skunky and Crackers and Me.

Jenny came on, sang a bawdy song
about the length of a lover's spondee.
We looked at her legs, while the raccoon laid eggs
near Skunky and Crackers and me.

The experienced Chuck, had the sense to duck,
when the bullets flew in towards me:
the doors opened wide, two came looking inside
for Skunky and Crackers and me.

Ifty strode in and ordered pink gin,
two whiskies and a cup of black tea,
said it was the night, for a stand-up fight
with Skunky and Crackers and me.

I stifled a laugh, Skunk said not 'arf
and Crackers sloped off for a pee.
When he came back, things looked awful black
for Skunky and Crackers and me.

For Ifty's pal, an unreasonable gal
whose name began with a T,
had come to shout, not argue it out
with Skunky and Crackers and me.

Ifty's the man, to pervert the Koran,
while his pal spits feathers with glee,
with our chests to poke, and no sense of the joke
on Skunky and Crackers and me.

When the shouting stopped, the quality dropped
and the poetry had suffered you see,
the poets for shame, had put all of the blame
on Skunky and Crackers and me.

Our answer came, all life's a game
don't take it so seriously,
laughing is nice, just take that advice
from Skunky and Crackers and me.

In the wild and woolly, way-out Web
in a bar called ABC,
sense came off best, by dint of a jest
from Skunky, and Crackers, and me.