Meddle ye not in affairs of lizards,
Lizards are cold blooded, heartless fellows;
Holding their cash in their chickens' gizzards,
Bringing demise to us all.

People who meddle with things that are riddles,
Never are heard from, the wretched fellows;
Nor do those apt with electric fiddles,
Crying for time as they stall.

Once you had lived in a bed of nettles,
Such have extinguished ten thousand fellows;
Now you make tea in your mother's kettles,
Ending the world with a poem.

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