There once was a runner named Dwight
Who could speed even faster than light.
He set out one day
In a relative way
And returned on the previous night.
An amoeba, named Max, and his brother
Were sharing a drink with each other;
In the midst of their quaffing,
They split themselves laughing,
And each of them now is a mother.
There once was a lady named Ferris
Whom nothing could ever embarrass.
‘Til the bath salts one day,
in the tub where she lay,
turned out to be Plaster of Paris.