Wil Tell will tell. Wil Tell, a tattle-tale!
Wil Tell’s wills.
Wil Tell’s wills will tell!
Wil Tell’s wills will tattle-tale well.
Wil Tell wills you to tell Tell’s wills.
Wil Tell wills you to tattle-tale Wil’s will well.
Wil Tell’s well: Wil Tell’s oil well!
Wil Tell’s oil well will.
Wil will tell Tell’s oil well will.
Will tell, Wil Tell!
Wil will tell Tell’s oil well will well, the tattle-tale!
He started to write in a will
When his sump pump proceeded to fill—
Which began to smell fell
And caused him to yell:
“When the well’s well I will will a will.”
In Napa Valley, Makavelli
Sprayed some East Coast diss graffiti:
Came to signing this, stood back,
“Now was it 2Pac or Tupac?
“Two Pack, too, perhaps to put,
“ ’Cuz Tupac backwards is caput.”
This ant’s wings’ve fled, so sterile is she.
The saddest in drone myrmecology.
She’s dry and she’s clean like
Your spinsterish aunt.
Make sure what you tread on—
That it ain’t an aunt ant.
The oddest, though, he’s ever sold ya’
Was a furlough from a soldier.
(Unusual pass! You used to be a
Jewel of a liberty.)
So journey on this permit, lass,
Sojourn on this here ticket, lest
Adjourning jurors slough the pass,
At your own cost: it’s for the best.