A bilingual
fellow named Pip
Never allowed it
to slip
That he spoke
just one tongue
That he’d picked
up when young
When sailing
around on a ship.
The language was
rarely one uttered
And with words
was very uncluttered
For ‘yes’ you
said ‘fnug’
The same word
for ‘jug’
For ‘orange’ and
‘cat’ and for ‘butter’
So chatting was
quite out of line
Though to
‘ptinger’ and ‘bnoody’ were fine
And if you could
‘fnar’
While washing
your car
Then that would
be simply divine
But one day when
poor Pip fell ill
Not a soul could
follow his skill
So Pip up and
died
For being tongue
tied
And the need for a little white pill