There once was a milkmaid named Gretchen To say she was fugly 'twarnt stretchen' She eloped to Nantucket With her beau [and a bucket] So he'd have him something to retch in. (my apologies, it's the best I could come up with on the spur.)
I practice my trombone inside But I do leave the doors open wide So the the neighbours can squiz And see what a whizz I'm at doing strange things with my slide
Dear god has someone stuck a dart in Pablo's backside? No! He's startin' His etudes and scales. Amateur dentristry pales To that squealin' and screechin' and fartin'
A mate of mine played the trombone Down the line, from an old telephone The sound, like a fart, Went straight to my heart Like a dying man's sad final groan