Oh dangly boy, the pipe, the pipe is falling
To where a hem quite modest would reside.
That pumper's long; when it empowers there's sighing.
'tis huge, 'tis huge, but stow it back inside.

That hunk is slack but plummets near the big toe. . .
Looks like a mallet, I think you should know.
Were it a ship, it might be called "The Big Mo,"
Or, dangly boy, whoa! dangly boy, "sub," "torpedo."

And when you're supine, there's a tower rising.
It's got a head as red as it can be.
Birds on the flyway will find it surprising,
And some may think an avis hit a tree.

There's even fear that soft you'll tread upon the
Once stately beam; we warn: traipse easily.
Else you might fall and topple like the tall tree
That you can't keep inside your haberdashery.