Thankless For Being the Luckless
In the Nineties Clyde’s heart sank:
The slowest to rise in rank!
You’d think him some faulty shank,
The air about his room dank
But he was filling his tank
For being no stranger to prank
That made less rich a bank…
Still, not the gods would Clyde thank.
In life he’s at the bottom
And to others An Atom:
Some witch beating the tom-tom
That for him raised a phantom…
The Thankless for being luckless,
For diversions his wireless;
Clyde could slap a motherless:
Really a ship rudderless
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