mc5 - A Sticky End

So from a hidden pocket, he took a golf umbrella,

And he stuck it into a giant bowl of jella

Giertrud

He added creams to it, namely whipped and shaving

To most he must sound mad indeed, not to say raving.

And furthermore he added, from inside his secret bag,

A glitter-covered g-string and a dirty, oily rag.

He ate up the concoction with a loud and loathsome gulp

Like that emitted by a frog as it's squashed to a pulp.

And then, from out his innards came a most unusual sound

Something like an ice-cream van, doing its summer round

He thought, "that's strange, for beans I did not eat,"

"And what might this miasma be, now creeping round my seat?"

'Twas far too late, for vengeful Fate gave him what he deserved: