Howie and Bowie went into the room of three
But as they were only two how could they accepted be?
Now Howie did suggest
Before the maitre d’ could call for their arrest
O d’, come on, giz a break
We only want something dry with a bit of a shake
And just as the d’ was about to retort
Humf oof argh and snort
Did Bowie add with much style and grace
Or we’ll have to smash your fucking face
Hints of perspiration were then said to appear on the old man’s skin
To flakes of snow padding a tender street akin
And with a sigh of relief
Did he express his sudden belief
That the occasion, unusual as it may be
Had forced him to see
The relativity of the matter at hand
For in his presence they did indeed form of three a band
So please, this way kind sir
And I regret I’m fresh out of myrrh
To suitably end this little fable
But naturally you may pick any table.
