There lived an old man by the sea

As naughty, as naughty as a man can be!

His cheeks were pink and his eyes crinkled

When his mind thought up naughty tricks

If you’re in wonder as to who this is

It’s none other than our AarAarGee

The grand old man full of fun

He whips up some whacky tales

And joining in the merriment

Are few rascals of his kind

Ruddier cheeks and cheekier tales

Happen as sun goes down

Old whiskey in fine old men

Goes down well, hand after hand

One fine day walked in a fine young lad

Into his lane by the sea

Aaraargee couldn’t resist and called him “Nutter”

While he was as soft and nice as butter

An old lady on hearing this added to the insult

Calling him “soft” n “battered”

The fine young lad sat down and cried

While plotting his revenge, fast and swift

His revenge was fast while hell’s fires raged

And here’s what emerged

For no reason of his, when called names

What should he do, you tell me!

Poets aren’t soft, yet they’re gentle

Oh so nice, they won’t hurt a fly

So he spared Aaaraargee, the old man by the sea

And the old lady who lives on a farm

Coz’ poets are a breed quite apart

Oh so gentle, oh so nice!

So the old man sits by sea

His whisky in hand, eyes crinkled up

And as for the lady

Oh! She’s fat!