Shuns Construction

I think that I shall never see

A poem weird as a world-tree

A tree to brighten every meal With fragrant boughs of stainless steel

A tree that may in winter grace

A skating rink around its base

A tree whose stark and spiked busem

Will scare the birdies, (and confusem),

That needs not rain, nor sun to rise,

That needs but love, and Simoniz

Of all the thoughts of Mr. Gropius

This cosmic hatrack is the dopius. T. A. Lehrer 4G