Calico

The bitter tip of a little herb That dirty nosey communist And when he chews it, routes discerned Those ashes barely fill this urn You're really cut from another cloth His beak nose can breathe in broth You're gonna taste a sour note They wanna burn the scrolls you wrote When the sun is gonna cool your smile You're gonna wind up keyed a while You can dance with your beard on fire The throat of g-d, aquire a choir But in good humor you can step away Your head is covered and your legs don't sway But if you dance, they're gonna try and say Today It's a serious day