The clock gets to be such a bore
What'cha livin' for
Though I can't explain, being sane's
Just a dreary chore
I'd like to go fly past mountains
See Mama Frog at her fountain
She'll be there in her golden frog
Sequined uniform
Golden chair, three trained human clowns
Who will soon perform
Balancing books with their heads
Trying to recall what they've said
Past the gate you will soon be in
A garden paradise
Don't be late there, the shining jewels
Sparkle in your eyes
All waiting there for your pleasure
What's keeping you from this treasure?
♪
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch?
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumlous Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand
Long time the manxome foe he sought?
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought
And as in uffish thought he stood
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy
'Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble In the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe
♪
The clock gets to be such a bore
What'cha livin' for
Though I can't explain, being sane's
Just a dreary chore
I'd like to go fly past mountains
See Mama Frog at her fountain