I sit on the floor and pick my nose and think of dirty things Of deviant dwarves who suck their toes and elves who drub their dings. I sit on the floor and pick my nose and dream exotic dreams Of dragons who dress in rubber clothes and trolls who do it in teams. I sit on the floor and pick my nose and wish for a thrill or two For a goblin that goes in for a few no-nos or an orc with a thing about glue. And all of the while I sit and pick I think of such jolly things As whips and screws and leather slacks of frottages and stings.