A very tall man was standing on his roof,
fishing for the moon, which caught the attention
of an insomniac ape who happened to be walking by,
sleep having failed him again.
"I do wish I could catch the moon," said the man.
"I do wish I could get some sleep," said the ape.
"If you help me catch the moon, I will let you
lay down on it," said the man, assuming something
so beautiful and quiet would have to be conducive
to sleep. The ape was atop the roofspot in a flash.
Together they experimented with every hook, line, lure,
rod, bait, pole and reel imaginable, but to no avail.
At last it was decided the moon was being unreasonably
defensive, a fickle temptation no longer worth casting after.
"I am tired," said the ape. "Tomorrow we will try for the sun,"
said the man, "It is much bigger." Right there on the roof,
they started singing like sailors reunited after many years at sea:
"Oh the moon is a prune in a cellophane tree.
And I’ve finally found out it means nothing to me.
I’ve got me a friend who’s as strange as can be.
Together we might hitch a star."