I met a priest named Mr. Fidget
Upon a mountain tall.
Under the shade of a maple tree
We talked, yet not at all.

He scratched his round, shaven head,
And rubbed his monstrous belly
From which roared a laugh so large
It filled the whole damn valley.

Philosophizing on Buddhist thought
In languages unknown
I scarecely understood a word, yet
The priest was never thrown.

He shook, itched, and shifted so
Meditation seemd unreal
And yet I learned from that priest
Of enlightenmental zeal.