(To be sung loudly while drunk
)- Stuart
A Wizard's Pen
A wizard's pen has a nib on the end
It never will buckle, it never will bend,
He cherishes it, and he calls it his friend,
and he frequently takes it in hand.
A wizard's pen is the source of his power
He checks it for leaks every hour on the hour,
And he's never surprised when it spurts an ink shower -
The wettest throughout the land.
The pen of a wizard with urushi is crowned
Upon it a clip almost never is found,
'Tis big and it's round and weighs three to the pound
And without it he's truly unmanned.
The pen of a wizard does remarkable deeds
It's mightier than swords and can pay for his needs,
Provides publisher's buffets upon which he feeds
And cheap champagne on which he gets canned.
Whenever a wizard is lonely or sad,
Or feeling dejected, or puzzled, or mad,
He takes up his pen, and things don't seem so bad -
By it he is never trepanned.
The pen of a wizard is dear to his heart
The dark lustrous wand of his magical art,
They travel together and are never apart,
A relationship few understand.
The wizard is rarely of heroic build
Were it not for his pen, he would surely be killed,
By demons or monsters his ink would be spilled
All over the pitiless sand.
A wizard in thought, word, and deed should be chaste
If he is not, he's considered disgraced,
Although in his dreams he is often embraced
By penwomen lissom and tanned.
The pen of a wizard is polished with care
He anoints it with waxes and unguents rare,
Rests it on silks and velvets most fair
And on feast days he has it Japanned.
A wizard when young has a pen that is small
Its nib is quite puny, ineffective withal,
He trades it for better until it stands tall
As his fame and his glory expand.
The pen of a wizard holds gallons of ink
To write epic stories of lands that did sink,
Though it won't drink those pale shades with perfumes that stink
Or else he'd forever be damned.
The true wizard's pen can do manifold tricks
To puzzle his readers and fuddle the hicks,
It can rescue the wizard from many a fix -
It is totally at his command.
When a wizard is old, and his ink starts to fade
He looks on his pen that with cunning was made,
The crown of his life and the tool of his trade
And together they make their last stand.
