[Clive]

We met one day in the pouring rain
Upon the great Gromboolian plain,
And all through one of those wintry nights
You made me shriek, you made me roar
Like waves that beat on the rocky shore.
You took me to the towering heights.
We rocked the house in Chankly Bore.
But then, as we lay in the darkest dark,
I saw what I thought was the fiery spark
Of a swift, post-coital Craven A
Its tip illuminating the night.
But it appeared unusually bright.
Still, I fell asleep in the gentle ray
Of that so peculiar light.

I've hung around with some awful creeps:
Flashy sods in bull-barred jeeps;
Wine snobs; self-important bores
And those who just want in your drawers.
And I've spent many a midnight hour
In Hall or Terrace, or lofty Tower,
Crying and wondering what went wrong.
But you O Dong!
Are a single perfect rose that grows
Among the dung, but alas, dear Dong
I cannot take the luminous Nose!