Ow! A spurred splinter of toothpick wood
Is jammed in my mouth--hurts so!
It's bored in part way through caries, I pray
It won't stick in no mo-ore.

Ow! This spurred splinter of toothpick wood
After dinner did go
Through gums exposed; I bite, mouth closed;
You hear the mournful sound, "Ohhhh!"

"Ohhhh!" This spurred splinter of toothpick wood
Exacerbates the decay
That makes it hell for thick-tongue tickling
Forthwith in gams-splitting play-ay.

That's quim pro quo when she'll toothe my wood;
Thoughts now I must delay
Of inching down to buss her mound
For this is yank-fillings day.

"Ohhhh!" This spurred splinter of toothpick wood,
It grates and it irritates.
The dentist's name's Moe; credentials are faux
He quickly demonstrat-ates.

"Ohhhh!" This spurned student of tooth-fix should
Be banned: I'll say "goodbye!"
Away I will run; have no pulling done,
Rather have a punch in eye.