I wrote this poem that I thought made sense
Then realized I was talking nonsense
So I sat down to rewrite it and found
The making of a perfectly good sound
If you tap your toes and clap your hands
You may soon find yourself in the making of a good band
If you stomp your feet and snap your digits
You may find yourself shorter than some midgets
As this sound floated through my head I wondered
Could this be true or was the sound thundered
I arose from my desk fully alive
Then asked myself why am I up at 11:45?