I love Alice Modlouse.
  She's the one for me.
I love her more than unicorns
  Or sugar in my tea.

Each word she says is music.
  It's jazz with hints of blues.
It drowns out heavy metal
  And the battles on the news.

With every step she takes
  She elicits adulation.
She's poetry in motion
  And she's read throughout the nation.

And she is proper poetry.
  I'm just comic verse.
She's a red Ferrari.
  I'm a former hearse

That is now in the possession
  Of a clown who is depressed.
He's lost his clowning passion
  And his dog has lost his vest.

Her helicopter umbrella
  Makes her fly like Mary Poppins.
She works with tramps and dropouts
  Till they're happy to be drop-ins.

Her father thinks I'm stupid
  Coz my enemy's a balloon,
And sometimes I get nose bleeds
  When I'm glared at by the moon.

But he thinks Transylvania
  Is somewhere in Westmeath.
I would correct his error
  But I'd fear my nose would bleed.

I've heard he bothers badgers
  With his brothers after dark.
They go to bed when others
  Exit dreamland with the lark.

And this I know for certain:
  He claims he met the pope.
This man he met had trousers
  That were held up with some rope.

I think the world should know this.
  I'm not as thick as him.
He called the pope 'Your Holiness'.
  The pope said, "Call me Tim."