Out of the tower and over the trees,
Spat the green gopher of Oz in the breeze.
A pig passed below, ‘twas sauntering by:
The spittle descended upon his eye.
He cried in pain; the gopher said “Sorry,”
But the pig threw him into the quarry:
He was mauled by monsters of that abyss,
Or he would have been if Pig hadn’t missed.
The gopher, having enough of the pig,
Took out of his sock a thingamajig:
He revved it up, with a noise like thunder,
And prepared to rend the pig asunder,
When a comet came down, out of the sky,
And turned the both of them both into cream pie.
The monsters crawled out - their cage had been wrecked-,
Ate the pork/ gopher pie, gave the world heck.
And this is why, in sunshine or showers,
You never spit off of tall towers.