The grievances piled in Tres Mouse. Spawned for neither shoes nor for blouse, the gripes involved pants, dig, Breakfast coffee and cig, Frank fretting in Returns. Hills of zippers From split boxes explore the floor, Hills of zippers Strewn like locks from barbers’ clippers, But they ran out of fabric. More shippers and debtors now endure Hills of zippers For parachute pants of puce and grouse. Dull colors, no pockets, sad outfits. Frank in Returns, snug as a mouse. It matters not whom it fits, Frank thought to himself, this is tall corn. He pondered the troublesome outfits. "Clear the runway, use the horn!" He smoked and sipped, "Kill the scenery! How can messes be reborn? Zippers, leaves for greenery, His teeth gnashed, and he stooped to scrying why one wears what rocks this scenery? Shiny pants that beggar buying Snatched by mobs that once were too chicken. "Tea leaves drying and, mirrors scrying!" Angry Frank stirred, bemused, smitten by the spectral, "No need to grouse." A voice reached him while he was scrying, And the spirit said, "Dull pants built this house." A Rime couée, rondolet, and terzanelle rolled into one. What a bargain! 6, 7, 19 - 32 lines
Fifty State Banana 