[George Simmers]

I'm afraid this one lowers the tone somewhat:

The Owl and the Pussycat went to see
A counsellor from Relate.
“I’d be better off dead,” the Pussycat said,
“Than yoked to so owlish a mate.”

“When I took you to wife,” says the Owl, “I thought life
Would be one sweet rhapsodical dance.”
Says the Cat, looking dreamy, “Wild sex, hot and steamy,
Was what I was after. Fat chance.”

“What you did with that honey,” says Owl, “wasn’t funny;
It clogged all my feathers like tar.”
“I got tired,” Pussy sniffs, “of repetitive riffs
On a notably small guitar.”

The counsellor (who, by the way, was a gnu)
Broke in, moved to the point of a tear.
“Stop this nonsense,” she fumed, “or your marriage is doomed.
And that would upset Mr. Lear.”