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'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
In my senior year of high school, my acapella choir instructor had us sing this. It was a specially arranged piece, with a reel-to-reel tape of electronic sound effects and noises that played in the background while the piece was performed, and we were the first group anywhere in the world to perform it. I would have adored him for the many other feats of magic he taught us to accomplish. But I loved him for choosing this.
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Lead me not into temptation ... follow me, I know a shortcut!
As the poets have mournfully sung,
death takes the innocent young,
the rolling in money,
the screamingly funny,
and those who are very well hung.
Your days are numbered - 26,280 per person on average - 2,000,000,000 heartbeats ... tick, tick, tick
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