They held a pink tea at the Rink.
The Gink had a kink in his blink.
He took a pink drink—hear the clink
Of his glass. As he gulps see him wink.
Hank pays for the drink. Hear the chink
Of the tin in his purse. See the link—
Pink link as it squelches the Gink,
And pushes him over the brink.
The grasshopper foolishly hops,
And lands in the bucket of slops.

'Tis better by far to be frank.
Tea drinking we all know is rank.
The Devil himself keeps the bank.
Just listen—that horrible clank
Of the chain on the leg of the Crank.
Poor Hank so lank turns on his plank
In the cell, 'tis his bed—down he sank,
His teeth gnashing, weeping—poor Hank.

Oh! look at that bright yellow spider,
The lady bug tries hard to ride her.
They both spin around like mad tops,
Then fall in the bucket of slops.

Dear Hank, please agree drinking tea
Is worse than tobacco for thee.
Poor Hank, how he slank—all we see
Are cobwebs high up in his tree.
 You see—Foolish Hank—bugs! Oh gee!

The Bug House, my dear friend, keep shy of.
Be certain you don't make a guy of
Yourself. Too much tea makes a sty of
Poor Ginks like old Hank. There's no why of
Nor wherefore. Alas! too much pink
Tea landed poor Hank like a mink
In the buggy clap trap, with one slap.
Poor Hank, foolish Crank, Oh poor Yap.

The tube—how the mercury drops
To zero. The lady bug flops,
The spider kicks once and then pops
Down deep in the bucket of slops.
The Pink Tea continues to rob
All boobs who are on to the job.
Avoid all pink tea, be a slob
If you like, but don't howl—never sob
Over what can't be helped, don't be loose.
No—don't be one Jack scrambled goose,
Or worse, an ambiguous flounder,
Be one dandy all about Rounder.

The spider desparingly hops.
The lady bug languidly mops.
Deserted, without any props,
Both die in the bucket of slops.

Next week there will be a fandango,
And after the spree one plain tango.
We'll finish with one Foxy Fox,
And then we'll adjourn to the rocks,
The cliff that o'er hangs the dark river.
With neither a shake nor cold shiver,
We'll top off the vixenish revel.
Oh yes, we will jump to the Devil.
And after the spree, surely we,
Will never more call for pink tea.

The spider and lady bug soak
To death. When at last they awoke
They never drank any pink tea
In bugs' Paradise, we'll agree.
Such stuff don't pan out with their chops
Down deep in the bucket of slops.
Yes, in the bugs' Heaven, now we
Feel certain they never drink tea.

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