The monkey looked at the clown and yelled
“Hey man, you’ve lost your touch”
The clown shot the monkey
A stiff drink and said
“You may be right, little monkey boy
You may just be right”

And midnight seldom happens in the daylight
Unless it’s time
A paragraph might be a poem
If it rhymed
But now it’s time and the words don’t rhyme
And the 7-Up’s made from lemon and lime
And you’re not right this time

The monkey looked at the clown
And laughed . . .