The Winglewangle

The Winglewangle gets around

From London to Prague it’s usually found

Just hanging about, or taking the air,

Or walking the streets, or having a 'mare,

Or swimming, or shopping, or sucking a mint,

But whatever it does please do not stare.

Don’t stare at it’s fops or exposed aleops

It’s crude and it’s lewd, but mainly just rude.

How would you like it if roles were reversed?

And Winglewangles, who weren’t yet besmirched,

Stared at your paunch or laughed at your nose,

Your eyes, or your nails, or the style of your clothes?

Or were terribly rude about the state of your mood?

You’d not like it a lot if they pulled on your flop

Or played with your ears or drank all your beers.

You’d be unhappy and miffed; not happy at all.

So remember it well, and next time you see one,

You don’t need to tease, but treat with respect

And with honour and ease.