In a weird and wicked way,
And he swore that Macaroni
Must forswear the light of day.
Thus he mixed a potent poison
In a glass of ruby wine—
Yes, I’ll light one more perfecto—
Gad, I think the earth is mine!
One more little sip of cognac?
Thanks, I cannot say thee nay;
Well—where was I? Oh, Spaghetti