The Lugubrious Whing-Whang

The rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best     Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs, -     'Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest,     An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed,     An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest. -      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     I don't know what in the world it means -      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! -     An' nen when I tell him I don't, he leans     Like he was a-grindin' on some machines     An' says: Ef I don't, w'y, I don't know beans!      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs! -     Out on the margin of Moonshine Land,      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand,     Writing his name with his tail in the sand,     And swiping it out with his oogerish hand;      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks?      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     Or what is the sound that the Whing-Whang seeks? -     Crouching low by the winding creeks     And holding his breath for weeks and weeks!      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!     'Tis a fair Whing-Whangess, with phosphor rings     And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings;     And she sits and as sadly and softly sings     As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings, -      Tickle me, Dear,          Tickle me here,      Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!