Well, my friends, a rhyme has come;
I’ll try to lace it with a pun,
Playing upon words. . .
Like “dun” for “done.”
A takeoff on a song
(Fake song, fake song).
When I post this thing, please don’t look askance
’cause I’m Don Q. with quill “lance,”
Going to parody—
Carramba! I’ve no Sancho Panza!

I’m thinking of a song. . .
Going to parody—
Carramba! I’ve no satire panache!
I’m thinking of a song. . .
Going to parody—
Carramba! I’ve no sanguine pablum.
I’m scribbling along—
Scrawl site song (scrawl-write). [3x]

People demand I retreat:
“Your risible writ not mete;
Write ain’t good, mild, or sweet!”
Yet this tunesmith plays on
(Plays on, plays on).
“Really not too smart,
These seamy paroles,
And the tune tripe isn’t droll. . .
Droning, the parody,
Rhyming too much anapest-a,
Eviscerating songs,
Empyrrhicism’s [sic] wrong.”
Scrawl site song (scrawl-write) [4x]

Yeah, once I get started
I’ve writ it down,
Enjoined by some
To be wary of rounds. . .
Can’t do a canon;
A fugue flees astray.
Enjoy parody?
Turn eyes away,
Oh yes!
Still, I’m going to parody,
Scrawl site song (scrawl-write) [3x],
Scrawl site song.

I won’t beat retreat. . .
Toe jam languished in feet—
Balls-site pong,
No they do not smell sweet, my feet,
So from them I retreat.
Scrawl site song—
It isn’t neat, this metered feat,
Effete, with a weak beat,
Scrawled site song.
Windmills, windmills!