“Spell, oh, I love you:
You gave Screamin’ Jay fame.
“Spell,” oh, I love you,
got caught up the game.
“Spell’s mo’ I loved to
crank ’em out without shame
“Spell”s, so much that, whew!
the time to refrain came.

That song’s a bit offbeat.
Mighty gravelly, not sweet
was the singing of the guy
who made the screams in a range low/high.

“Spell”s, so I love to
crank ’em out sans refrain.
“Spell” ’ho I was, too. . .
like a spike in my vein.
“Spell”s cho’ I got to,
going slowly insane.
““Spell’s, no—enough, you
are becoming a pain!”

I hanged my head to cry,
not enraptured then was I.
My larmes* were viscous, like legs very long
on a cru with “[Wine] Spectator” rates strong.

I thought then about my suite.
Such a hog I’d been—gorging, not neat.
Metaphor switch—now no stubborn mule.
Wait till after kids get back to school!

“Spell”s mo’. . . .
I’ll flog few
“Spell”s mo’
I’ll feed my Jay spree
Hell, mo’. . . .