Come and listen to a story about a ring named Q,
A poor fried food, destined for hungover chew,
Then one day Jen was looking at her plate,
And she saw through the crowd what must be fate.

A letter that is, the letter Q



Well the first thing you know old Q is our best friend,
Hung girls said, “We’ll keep you till the end!”
Said “San Diego is the place you ought to be”
So they wrapped him in a napkin, and took him to the beach.



Sand, that is. Surfin’ fools, little dogs. (And crazy Lynn)