When you’re asked to join the Cabinet
And think “What jolly fun!”
And they then remove your backbone,
How exactly is this done?
Is it ripped out like Excalibur
Or is your hour of bliss
Disturbed as they dissolve it
With an antiseptic hiss?
Or, when you swap your vertebrae
For a thing you might adore,
Do they ratchet from your arsehole
To the polished marble floor?
But whatever way they calculate
To confiscate your spine
Do you think it’s wholly dignified
To squeal, “Oh! How divine!”
And if the blotting paper spine
You’ve now got’s all you wish,
Please remember, your condition
Would disgust a jellyfish.