The answer the great men had sought Was given, at last, by Deep Thought But the question, it seems Is concealed in our dreams And can't be begged, stolen or bought
Don't believe everything that you hear Unless told at a pint of good beer If it's Guinness you’ll know She confirms she's aglow When she nibbles the lobe of your ear.
Antonio's ships come to naught So by Shylock's harsh contract he's caught But he proves black is white And the court finds him right So he walks, leaving Shylock distraught.
There once was a man from Siberia Who excelled by so many criteria Still, his wit and his style Were surpassed by a mile By his fetchingly sculpted posterior