The Bombardon
We once had a truly amazing bombardon
All padded with vervet which came from Des Moines
It could be quite dangerous, (we kept the guard on)
The rampikes and pronks were all weighted with foins
The edges were colloped with many edmenage
The doors, when they opened, revealed a bezoar
Klipspringers abounded and quite an advantage
Were fifty five cats, a zedonk and a boar.
The things I liked best were perdicular boskets
Which hung from the corners, all covered with flumes
They sparkled with silver, as did the pearl oskets,
Except when the mithridate gave off its fumes.
When father developed a bad diaeresis
He raged in delirium, ‘Sell the darned thing!’
My heart, callithumpian, heard this sad thesis
I even considered a note to the King.
The sad day arrived, the bombardon was taken
A gold ninnyhammer fell, clunk, to the floor
And now in the night when I often awaken
I know I’ll not see my bombardon no more.
