Critter dropped his life’s work down the Walpole Prison sink.
Wasn’t twenty minutes ‘fore the pipe began to stink.
The warden came, said, ‘Who’s to blame?” We said, “Who do you think?”
Then they saw poor Critter, on the floor, face neon pink.
And then he levitated, and the warden gave a gasp,
for Critter kissed him on the lips quite quickly as he passed.
The warden, in that moment, had a grand epiphany.
“As Critter lives, I hereby declare all prisoners free!”
And, as his spirit floated eastward, heading toward Cape Cod,
his captors and his inmates followed, raising hymns to God.
The spirit dance that followed, alas, gained some great renown.
And Critter’s genes can still be seen in jaunts to Provincetown.