Pi-ano Man by Jeffrey Moran
It’s three o’clock on the fourteenth. One lonely man stumbles in.
Then five more shuffle through the door. Nine want two bottles of gin.
They ask for a number irrational. They’re not really sure how it goes.
But it’s long, no repeats, and it’s still incomplete. How it ends, nobody knows.

Chorus:
Yes, give us a number, pi-ano man. Six five three eight nine seven,
Nine three two three eight four six two six again, Four three three eight three two seven nine.

There’s no fraction bar with two integers that can give you this ratio
Of a circle’s circumference to diameter. It’s irrational, you know.
They say, “Doc, we think this is fantasy.” And they tried to recall just why
How they would use this number abstruse as the waitress brought them more pie.

Chorus:
Yes, give us number, pi-ano man. Three point one four one five.
Nine two six five three and five again, eight nine seven nine.

Now, Paul’s a polygon geometer who needs to calculate space
To fill up a jar of radius r, and the volume his wife can displace.
The waitress is practicing physics, and the businessmen ogle at sines.
They compare notes about Mandelbrots and scalar curvatures of the spine.

Chorus:
Yes, give us number, pi-ano man. Three point one four one five.
Nine two six five three and five again, eight nine seven nine.

It’s a pretty good number for figuring anything involving spheres.
But it’s hard to see why we need to know pi to thirteen trillion digits, so far.
‘Cause one hundred digits is good enough for the size of the known cosmos
To be calculated and calibrated to the nearest micron. Pretty close.

Chorus:
Yes, give us number, pi-ano man. Three point one four one five.
Nine two six five three and five again, eight nine seven nine.