I fell into some gator aide,
in my under-roos in Florida.
I drank it going to Africa,
so drunk, stunk, hugged a gorilla!
Slipped on a banana appeal,
then had snow, ice. Aloha!
To keep warm, unfroze a boa;
he finished off my flat cola.
He choked, blasted me to Cornish.
'Twas full of colonels lacking ears
who filled up the pubs and said 'cheers'.
I went looking for ‘younger’ years
and found a bunch of them in Chad,
Clearly they all lacked a clear punch!
Fortunately, I had a hunch,
took the train into London . . . lunched.
However, I found Corning. Where?
Shhh! Stashed it for under-cover wear!
I took an oath; they made me swear
on gator aide, I’d not been ‘there’.
My secret agent days . . . are o’er.