There lived a lanky pangolin
That liked to play the mandolin.
Complained a tacky platypus:
"This fiddle sounds monotonous!"
And our lofty pangolin
Plucked softly then its mandolin.
Unfortunately some platypi
They do not like the do-re-mi,
And our tacky platypus
Was not exactly humorous.
It seems to me that platitude
Had certainly some attitude.
Behold, the cranky pangolin
It swung the lanky mandolin
And crushed the creature’s swanky beak.
Those shrieks of that poor platy-freak!
The pangolin began, I hear,
To shed a bitter-sweetish tear.
It bought some nifty crazy-glue
And smeared it on the platypoo.
So could the wobbly beak re-harden.
Oh, what a nice idyllic pardon.
And at the end of this affair
The two appeared to be a pair.
The pangolin and platypus
They lived their life quite amorous,
Had many lovely little feasts
Produced some other mighty beasts,
Created - that’s preposterous -
A pretty baby pangopus,
Or maybe platylin, I guess…
In any case, it was a mess.
The pango- and the platypus
They lived a life quite wondyrous
And had the sweetest of relations
With plenty of communications,
The platy- and the pangolin,
In English and in Mandarin.
They had the sole monopoly
Of plangy- and patopoli
And lived forever and in glory.
This is the end of our story.