The ox and the moron kidded each other
with crazy questions one lazy afternoon:
"Tell me, oh, witty Moron,
what is an oxymoron?"
"That's easy, owlish Ox,
why, it's a paradox."
The ox shook his head and mooed:
"Guesses are far too many,
but the only answer is irony."
To which the moron gamely retorted:
"I disagree. Using hot flatiron, to me,
that is irony!"
The ox stood his ground, grinning:
"Oh, yeah? And a paradox
is but a solo parade of an ox?"
They laughed till they cried, till a deafening
silence exploded and died,
Meekly, together they asked the afternoon,
"Aren't we the oxymoron?"