By Ken Gosse
The End of the Beginning of D’oh-Raymese
There once was a royal musician whose life reached a dreadful transition. Entombed with remorse (with his pharaoh, of course), he was placed in an awkward position. He first wrote a powerful curse, but then he wrote many a verse. His best isn’t long: it’s a well-favored song which the von Trapps would one day rehearse. We don’t know the scale that he used; gin and tonic were often abused. Do through Fa he’d oft’ skip to begin with a nip of a fifth, so some songs sound confused. Sometimes he wrote visions of doom— future ravages spawned from Hell’s womb. On these subway-like walls you can read silent scrawls where he wrote in the gloom of his tomb. He also took arduous pains to compose many four-line refrains. Quatrains, one and all, but when on a tomb wall, they are reverently known as soultrains. Although he felt most ill-at-ease (being left there in spite of his pleas), he etched out his name, his escape to great fame: he is “Maestro: The Great D’oh-Raymese.”
D’oh! A Beer! (by D’oh-Raymese)
D’oh! A beer, I need a beer to raise my spirits from the Earth. Me? I want it now, my dear. Help father understand his worth. Solo drinking is just fine, lamenting when I am low; tea is not as good as wine, so I’ll drink while I have dough.
Don’t You Do, Do, Do What We Did, Did, Did to the Do-Do-De-Oh Dodos (by D’oh-Raymese)
Dodos used to roam the Earth, raiding beaches for their lunch. Meager pickings, when a dearth, farmers’ fields they’d raid and munch, so, the farmers ate their eggs lots of dodo wings and legs, teaching us we need more regs, but it’s too late for dodos.
The Sourdough Man or The Djinn from Lactobacillaceae (by D’oh-Raymese)
Dough you kneaded thoroughly, raised by yeasty gas within: mean lacto-base-ee-lacy-ee, far from sweet, began to sin. So, with sour-looking grin, lots of terror—evil djinn! Teens would lose their spleen and skin to the beast called Sour Dough!
Jeepers Reapers, They Give Me the Creepers! (by D’oh-Raymese)
D’oh-Raymese would like to please raiders of his pharaoh’s tomb. Meager pay, but none today— fodder in a reverse womb so the pharaoh may proceed (largess never was his creed), teeming victims were decreed to be his eternal dough!