Nungate lived in a little colossal Scottish hoose,
With a little black kitten and a little gray moose,
And a little Queenie and a clapped out Renault wagon,
And a real-io, trul-io, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray moose, she called her Blink,
And the little Queenie was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a Nessie wuss, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp incisor teeth,
And spikes on top and scales on his privates underneath,
Mouth like the Towers fireplace, a Auld Reekie chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, skean dhus on his toes.
Our Nungate was as brave as a barrel full of Daisy's bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lie-in-kings down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a Queenie tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe stable and cage.
Nungate tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little Reanult wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Nungate giggled till she shook the hoose,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a moose,
Ink and Queenie Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe stable and cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Nungate,
For there was a Tony, climbing in the porto-cullis gate.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in heis right,
And he held in his balsa teeth a cutlass bright,
His stubble was white and black, one leg was pine wood;
It was clear that this Villa-ite meant no good.
Nungate paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Queenie Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the hoosehold,
And little mouse Blink strategically mooseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like a Volvo engine,
Clashed his tail like Igor's irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the Tone like a robin at a worm.
The Tonee gaped at Nungate's dragon,
And gulped some goat grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard nibbled him, every bollock and bit.
Nungate embraced him, Queenie licked him,
No one concerned for his Tone victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the Tonetyrate.
Nungate still lives in her colossal white Tower-hoose,
With her little black kitten and her little gray moose,
And her Queenie and her clapped out Renault wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Nungate is as brave as a barrel full of Daisy's bears,
And Ink and Blink chase Lie-In-King down the stairs,
Queenie is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe moat and cage