Ringelnatz in 3/4

A larynx suffered a migraine
And howled loud, Hyena-wise;
It brayed until it was fairly hoarse.
But because help was sought in vain
And when no one heeded its cries,
It was cured as a simple matter of course.

One dies here from so little to do,
Thought an idle nail file
During lunch!
So he made more or less much ado,
Filing a fingernail a while
During lunch!
For this a silver fork began to jeer,
"Hey you! -- you're not alone here!"

Mister Nail lodged in a piece of wood;
He was proud of his screwy wife.
She held up a golden metal hood,
A brass screw, she was Mister Nail's life.
She was somewhat joined yet somewhat loose,
And loosely planned a lovers' spree.
She loved a hook and whom she thought to seduce;
In a knot-hole hidden tryst she sought to be.
And so one day she went away,
Abandoning poor Mister Nail.
He bent much under such pain that day,
His iron heart gave a bitter wail,
Tear-washed in his misery.
Soon nearly rusted through would he be.
But then things seemed to turn aright
As the old shrew came back again.
Her face gleamed all brass and bright;
Old loves rust not, she said. Amen!

It was a steel button during the season,
Which shunned its buttonhole without reason.
(Said vulgarly: "it" was open.)
He sat vis-à-vis a certain Miss;
"Ha ha ha!" did she suddenly hiss!
The button felt damp, then wet,
For his stainless regret
Was steely upset.

Such little pains are mere nomenclature
For the terrible consequences of nature.

The night passed. And the day awoke. --
Under the still star-shined sky
Stood a carriage horse, white as smoke,
Which laughed with an equine sigh.

That day passed, for the night was nigh.
The horse lay down on the cobblestones;
Its legs were pointed to the hobbled sky
As it pondered horsey unknowns.

And again the stars flashed across the sky. -- --
A tear wet the horse's rightmost eye. -- --

The driver on the carriage seat yawned,
And drank his brandy as it dawned.

Blindly towards a pond
A lizard slithered and wormed,
A blind lizard moving to it.
Something stirred on the wind beyond.
The lizard would not see what squirmed,
As blind, it could not view it.

That darkling thing was merely the shred
Of another blind lizard, quite unseeingly dead.

The mirror, the comb
And the make-up sponge
And the white towel on the wall
And the wardrobe-hidden, unknown man who just possibly might lunge
Waited for beautiful 
Kate to call.
And finally, oh finally Kate did come along.
Yeah, the sponge kissed her mouth, then kissed her cheek,
And she kissed the sponge, then bowed
And kissed the towel again, though meek,
With flattery from the mirror allowed.
Her blonde hair by the comb was caressed.
To them her fine and proper thanks she addressed.
Then she saw that wardrobe-hidden lad
And ran away from the unknown cad,
Hollering: "Help! Murder!" and ""Police!"

Man believes things that might have been.
Here the opposite was clearly seen.

Without rushing, a man can traverse
In twelve minutes perhaps a kilometer.
A scurrying brown rat is not much averse
To the same, per its brown rat odometer.
The little brown rat, we have agreed,
Usually has four legs, as a clue.
How quickly runs then a millipede? -- --
I don't really know. Do you?

"Oh", cried a glass of Burgundy,
"Oh moon, you wonder divine!
Your silver chalice, full and free,
Spills pale, sweetly dizzying wine,
Intoxicating, its bright warming glow
Lights bright the nightingales' land below - -"

To the fast emptied glass, the Moon did glow:
"That's right! That's right! I know! I know!"

Dumdee Dum
Dum Deedum
Dum Dee Dum

Dum Deedum
Dum Dee Dum
Dumdee Dum

Dum Dee Dum
Dumdee Dum
Dum Deedum.

A terrible cough there once was
That simply did what coughing does.
It hid behind a held-up hand
Which was well-mannered, right and planned.
And for this cough Doctor Lieben's shops
Manufactured Lieben's malt flavored cough drops.

A pin cushion thought, quite elated,
That to a porcupine
It was related.
The pin cushion, in its turn,
Is porcupine-like
As we have come to learn.
Naturally we are simpatico with its view.

There was once a safety match,
Filled with a sense of pride,
Chosen by anarchists to arson-dispatch
A house and the contents inside.
This seemed odd and thereupon
It went out straightaway
To Meyers pocket lexicon,
Specifically the first volume, "A,"
Which is why after the blaze
It turned to that alphabetical list
To answer this questioning phrase,
"What exactly is an anarchist?"

"Yesterday you behaved rather badly,"
The chamois planned to say to the drum.
But the drum tightened quickly
Its thick coat
And began beating a thundering drum roll
Yup - and in the chamois for fright
Remained, its opinion unspoken.