Chloe writes a song a day.
  She sings them for her friends.
She sings in pubs and plays
  The concertina on weekends.

She wrote a song about the day
  Her cat burst a balloon.
She wrote about the joy she feels
  When staring at the moon,

And the woe of Phil the Fluter
  When the flow of water took
His favourite stick of dynamite
  From his garden's brook

To the mighty ocean
  Where it's surely lost for good.
She wrote about her uncle
  And his finger made of wood.

My favourite song by Chloe
  Is the one she wrote about
The time she caught a butterfly
  That flew into her mouth.

She was singing at a barbeque.
  She'd just begun a song
About a zoo with chickens,
  But it didn't last too long.

The people in the garden
  Were distracted by the food.
The song was background music
  In a lazy summer mood.

They didn't look towards her
  Till she coughed and then they saw
A creature from the depths of her,
  Defying nature's law,

Flying round the garden
  And defiling hearts and minds.
They wished their mental windows
  Had been covered up with blinds.

People chose to flee the scene.
  They ran into a field.
It seemed to them that distance
  Was the most effective shield

To protect them from the horror
  That emerged from Chloe's mouth.
I'm a little teapot
  With a handle and a spout.

This disguise protects me.
  It's the shield I always use
When I'm in a spot of bother
  Or when sailing on a cruise

And I'm trying to avoid
  A single lady who's intent
On making me her husband
  Coz she thinks' I'm like Clark Kent,

And that when I lose my glasses
  I'll become a Superman.
I'd cook for her and sing to her
  And bravely thwart the plan

Of an evil genius
  Who has a manic laugh,
Who sits behind a mammoth desk
  And strokes a pet giraffe.

The guests who fled the party
  Had to stop to take a rest.
They saw another menace
  Slowly coming from the west.

The fluffy clouds in summer skies
  Are spies in cloud disguise.
When they slow their pace you'll see
  Their terrifying eyes.

All the guests were terrified.
  They ran back to the house.
They felt they needed shelter
  Just like any little louse

Will need a head of hair
  If they're going to stay alive.
I've seen them having parties
  On the roof of my friend Clive.

The house's new inhabitants
  Located hiding places.
Curtains, rugs and table cloths
  Obscured the fear-filled faces.

Chloe and the teapot
  Stayed outside to guard the drink.
We'd many hours together
  To discuss our lives and think

About such weighty topics as
  The universe and time
And teaching quantum physics
  Through the medium of mime.

Miming came in handy when
  Our words were slightly slurred.
I filled a cup with tea,
  Added sugar and then stirred.

It tasted quite peculiar.
  I went back to the gin,
And then I tried the whiskey
  Before making tea again.

As night set in the people
  Who were hiding ventured out.
They could hear the stream of music
  Flowing from my spout.

They started to relax
  And the music made them dance.
They didn't mind when someone's cat
  Began to spit out ants.

In Chloe's song about these strange
  Events she mentioned me.
She says I fell asleep on chairs
  And woke up soaked in tea.