In Which we make beautiful music

First, Lo:
(With apologies to John Donne in particular and the English language in general):


Batter my palate, banana flavored barium for thee:
A refreshing yet mellow nectar of luminous splendor!
Let no earthly fruit sully thy chalky radioactivity,
Nor paltry luncheon interrupt thy furious temblor!

No lesion, tumor, nor button half-digested
Can hide itself before thy god-like brightness;
Thy savor like the dust from tin roofs crested,
Illuminate my colon with thy clear whiteness!

O, potassium-free seeker! Thou fruit-free pathfinder!
Let me not sojourn without tamales in vain!
Behold me and murmur: Her gullets I'll wander,
For the flavor of nanners always beats plain!

Nine weeks without barium face me, tra-la
What about next time: perchance, vanilla?

[enter Pete] OK, so that was Lola's creative outpouring. Here's mine, which came to me all at once as I was cleaning cat-sick off her blue suede shoes (no joke!). This is, of course, what husbands are for.

I'm cleaning vomit off your shoe
Because I care for you.
I'm cleaning vomit off your shoe.
It's what I like to do.
I'm cleaning vomit off your shoe
Because our love is true.
And when the vomit's off your shoe,
Your shoe will once again be blue.

Give me a call, and I'll sing it for you. I could transcribe the tune, but wouldn't you rather hear me sing? You can call me any time, because I'm quitting my day job to be a crooner.