It begotts election
And transfuses time
(It) dismisses rejection
And ability to rhyme.
It comes in two's and 3's and Nine
You hang it on your washing-line
But if it rains, then it's no good
The wetness extracts melt the wood
It starts with 'Z' and 'P' and 'L'
And when you pinch it lets off smell
It ends with 'Y' and 'Q' and 'R'
And looks just like a broken star
For what is seen is often heard
Unless of course you're Patrick Jurd
Cos' then you have no hope in hell
To find the word, which is ****l
(hotel)
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