There should be something you can take
to make everything alright.
We’ll call it Twemlow’s Potion
— just a spoonful every night.
Then the whole world will be grinning
like nine demented apes,
we’ll be leaping from the rafters
and swinging from the drapes.
But we’ll soon grow tired of happy,
and of endless jolly japes.
Then we’ll sit around like monkeys
asking ‘How can we escape?’