The firefly's flame is something for which science has no name
I can think of nothing eerier
Than flying around with an unidentified glow
On a person's posterior.
The wasp and all his numerous family
I look upon as a major calamity.
He throws open his nest with prodigality,
But I distrust his waspitality.
The one-l lama,
He's a priest.
The two-l llama,
He's a beast.
And I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn't any
[To which Nash appended the footnote
* The author's attention has been called to a type of conflagration known as a three-alarmer. Pooh.]
I've always liked Ogden Nash's light, quirky and completely delightful rhymes.