The Spoonbill Generator: Harry In The Blue Toast-Rack

Hail! Hale-Bopp and roll upon your starry roundelay

For Bop is hale and hearty and wants to stay that way

Although our nets lie ready

And our weapon's aim is steady

You've eluded every trap that we have set since Saturday

Ouch! I've trodden on a mound of quite ferocious ants

For Antony is evergreen, despite his crimson pants

And although the taxi's waiting

And the driver's hesitating

It will surely not be long before we hear the ambulance

The sands of time will peter out and leave us all to die

Yet heavenly detritus goes on spinning through the sky

And although the sky is murky

And it's time to carve the turkey

Our combing of the beaches has left us high and dry

We'll roll and rock our way along the comet's gassy trail

For Roland can be passionate, although his pelt is pale

And although we're quite mendacious

As to appetites rapacious

It wouldn't be a lie to say our favourite food is snail

Farewell, Hale-Bopp, as ever south you wend your ordained path

I trust you won't object at all if I now have a bath

Or a meteoric shower

For I need one every hour

If only to discover who has hidden in the hearth