I seek the rhyme uncommon, the rarely matched-up word,
Not like the one that’s always heard but one that’s more absurd.
For me no cliched couplet, no often-matched word pair,
No dime-a-dozen rhyme because I want the one that’s rare.
No tears for fears, no boy with toy, don’t take my hand and understand
I’m telling you quite plainly that such doggerel will here be banned.
I’ll have no whale of any tale, and not tonight will it be right
Don’t talk of shame and who’s to blame; don’t talk of light that is so bright.

Instead, I’ll sing how Sasquatch sound a soulful serenade
Sequestered midst sequoias as they stately promenade.
I’ll mark how many mandrill monkeys master marksmanship
Maneuvering machine guns in their mighty monkey grip.
An emperor named Klemperer I'll sing of, if you please:
How he likes chives, as long as knives, served by his wives at teas.
And furthermore, I shall explore the shore of one far nation
Where lives a lovely lyricist who loves alliteration
And likes to tell how one small shell that's found there on that beach
Is often sold for lots of gold - ten thousand dollars each!
And maybe then I'll sing of Ken who has a den that's cluttered
With so much junk, the floor has sunk. He keeps the windows shuttered.
Perhaps some taps and thunderclaps will make good raps that rhyme;
This kind of noise quite overjoys me – ‘tis a thrill sublime.

6/02