When one with t'other straightaway agrees
The answer is they could be twins full-grown
Forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
While sharks to let's say potted shrimps are prone
To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
Nought can the mouse's timid nibbling stave
Such merchandise a melancholy brings
Till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave
When dried the terrapin can naught express
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
To prove mamma an adult with a tress
We'll suffocate before the epilogue
And let you off from your opinions glum
The best of all things to an end must come