Auntie Toothache - Stephin Merritt

«isn't it strange,» said the inkwell

«all that comes out of me!

the famous lines!

the valentines!

just think!

without an inkwell, where

would the poet be?»

«I'll make you change your mind,»

said the pen, plucked from the tail

of a bird

«those famous lines, those valentines

I wrote them, every word

without a pen, never again would

poetry be heard.»

forget the inkwell and the pen

when auntie toothache comes again

the poet, saddest of all men

can sing no more

when auntie toothache starts her torture

with her pliers and her lance and her fires

she desires him to dance

and so they dance, dance, dance, dance

dance, dance, dance

and auntie toothache wields her tongs

and makes her poet sing her songs

in screams and whimpers, till he longs

to die right now

then auntie toothache makes him vow

(with one more cup of fire ants)

that he’ll give up poetry and take up dance

and so they dance, dance, dance, dance

dance, dance, dance

he never writes another line

his life becomes a valentine

to auntie toothache and her fine

degress of pain

from lack of sleep he goes insane

and fancies he’s the king of france

beset by bees

auntie toothache whispers, «dance!»

and so they dance, dance, dance, dance

dance, dance, dance

and they dance, dance, dance, dance

dance, dance, dance