piccadilly kim

(originally from october 18, 2004)

To the sand, to the sand, to the sand I will go
And I’ll play, play, play in the rain and the snow –
But NO, oh NO, no,
NO snow on the sand, the sand is the unsnowiest thing that I know!
It is dry and not damp, not damp and so dry
Except when the ocean comes on it to cry
Which it does fairly often, I’m certain enough,
And the myth that it doesn’t I will often rebuff.
The ocean cries tears of the saltiest kind,
But they’re happy, so happy, for it knows that to find
The Tweezies, the Tweezies, that special sea-breed,
Its weeping will draw them quick out of their mead
Hall where they’ve reveled so long
With dancing and feasting and oceany song.
So its not out of sadness nor out of despair
But from joy and delight and de-lack-of-despair
That the ocean its tears daily does shed
Which fall on the Tweezie, on the top of his head!
Then, when the ocean has cried there, right there on the sand,
You can see the Tweezies come out and come up, each hand in each hand
Their hands are the handiest part of their whole,
They’re upsy and downsy and insy and outsy,
And wowsy and bowsy and powsy and dowsy
They do lots of fun things, these hands on these Tweezies,
They even cover their snouts when they sneezies!
Or their mouths when they wheezies!
And sometimes even their feet when they freezies!
Which is really quite useful, it is, is, is, is,
When the Tweezies begin to jaunt ‘bout on the sand.
The sand is not hard, not up by the sea,
And it is quite lax for a Tweezie, you see.
It is so soft and so mushy and so squushy
A Tweezie, you see, could become – horror! – fluhshy!
Except for his hands! Oh his glorious hands!
His hands that cover his soft little feet
And keep him from sinking, from sinking so quick
Under the sand where he’s bound to get sick!
How do they do this, his hands, you may ask?
They do it by keeping his feet stable and steady
And ready and steady and steadily ready
For whatever may come up from beneath
Like his wife Mrs. Tweezie or his pet Tweezie Squeeth!
The Squeeth are an old brand of Tweezie best friend,
And the Squeeth, he will bounce and will pounce and will trounce
He’ll flounce when they can, in spite of himself,
When he finds an old foe, a great friend or a spouse.
The Tweezie, the Tweezie, like I said once before,
Is the friend of the Squeeth, who’s certain to roar
If anything sharp or hard flies at the poor Tweezie guy.
He’s soft and he’s squishy, a bit like the sand,
And it hurts him so much if a point pricks his hand.
So that’s why he keeps the Squeeth always nearbysies
To keep a sharp lookout with his ten super eyesies.
The Squeeth likes the Tweezie, too, really, he does;
They work well together and this is because …
Because, oh because, the Tweezie supplies the Squeeth with his extra front teeth!
The teeth of the Tweezie are a sight to behold
Some of them silver and some of them gold
And some of them ruby and some of them not
And some of them cold and some of them hot!
The teeth of the Tweezie are extensive, you see,
But he does not use them to see!
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
He uses them all to gnaw and to gnaw!
To gnaw and to gnash and to gnash and to gash
And to gash and to gnaw and to gnaw and to gnash!
But the Squeeth oh dear oh, the poor little Squeeth
Is simply lacking any fine teeth!
He has ten eyes, ten eyes, to be sure,
But what good do they do him without any teeth?
He sees all the food that he’d like to bequeath
To his stomach each day –
All the curds and the whey, and the whey and the curds
But lots more than that.
Oh much more than that, than that, oh than that!
He’d like to taste turnips and trifles and tarts
And apples and olives and artichoke hearts!
SO, the Tweezie, dear Tweezie, dear Tweezie-kin pal
Chews all the curds and the whey and the whey and the curds
The turnips and trifles and tarts and apples and olives and artichoke hearts
Then he gives them to Squeeth-friend who with a big sigh
Swallows and swallows, then asks for some pie.
But the pie must now wait for another day
For the ocean is out and its now time to play!
The ocean, the ocean with its splash and its splish
And its sploosh and its slosh and its splush and its swish!
Its swish, splush, slosh and SPLOOSH,
Squish, squish, squish!
With the Squeeth along with the Tweezie, you see,
They can play in the ocean this fine, fine, fine day.
For the sand is so bright and shining and white
Oh what a sight, what a sight, what a sight!
It crackles and crinkles and crunkles and coos
When over it often the Tweezie and Squeeth tread with their shoes.
Crackle and crinkle and crunkle and coo,
The sand laughs at the pair,
And it plays with them, too!