Not my real name.
This famous walrus could rhyme,
With his foot he'd be tapping out time.
He lived in Dakota
And not Minnesota
But was sadly cut down in his prime.
There once was a strange magazine,
Whose readers were mainly pre-teen.
But all things must end,
Though its young gap-toothed friend
Doesn't worry he'll never be seen.
It's a game that is played in the air,
Come and give it a try if you dare.
But be ready to sweep,
And be ready to keep
Flying gold even if it's not fair.
A muscular prince met disgrace
When he tried to make a master race.
He was overthrown, sir,
And he and his crew were
Put asleep and then shot into space.
This busy industrial town
Had never enjoyed much renown.
But now it has fame,
Everyone knows its name,
Because it, in a flash, was knocked down.
When his seven words set folks aflame,
This funnyman shot up to fame.
But time has been kind,
And today you will find,
He's thought of with posthumous acclaim.
A funny and lumpy old face
Of a quite indeterminate race.
But children will play
On him they'll find a way
To stick features all over the place.
This band of young lads playing pop
Had records that all hit the top.
The kids were elated,
But parents all hated
Hairdos they compared to a mop.
In this film, the main character's manic.
He puts timid folk in a panic.
When they're caught with a flat,
He promises that
He'll call a satanic mechanic.
There once was a man who earned much,
By rapping and rhyming and such.
He'd do an odd dance,
And he'd wear his odd pants,
And tell you what you couldn't touch.
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