I was there at the cattle fair, where
  lump fairies swear at glories far be-
  yond the fabric that she wears. He said
  "Do ya wanna chair?" I'd join him any-
  where! A hole in the ground, in this
  theatre I found J.C.'s infernal horde--
  they caper, they banter, forming human
  pyramids, all to please--their infernal
  Lord...Whoa! His name is J. Cousteau!!!
  A pussy and I know you know!! I know
  you know, and there he goes. He goes and
  grows, on gosh, he knows--Aboard the
  Calypso!! The foam beside, and a burly
  sea to ride, all spell goodness for the
  master of the whirling pimple tides.
  He tried and fried until the rusted
  hinges sighed, and then he stepped
  inside! He found her there, swimming
  in her seaweed hair, looking vaguely
  like a lover who has hung herself with
  underwear--Phosphorescent green and
  the sex-act made obscene, in Jacques
  galleon of hatred--This wrinkled French-
  man is a living god!!!
  Cousteau, you know, where the dying
  dolphins go, and the wasteland ever growing,
  never slowing till it's far below--Put it
  on your T.V. show--and let the humans
  know!!!