Fulfilling a special request:
Ding dong, the clock strikes ten.
It’s time to leave, again.
There’s a guy works in McDonald’s
thinks he’s Elvis.
In the middle of himself
there is a pelvis.
(I couldn’t think of anything else to rhyme).
But he also has a mind and a heart
and he’ll give you time;
his time; the time of day.
He’s in touch with his feminine side
but he’s not (very) gay.
He’ll give you a smile or smirk
and a friendly word
to help you along your way.
For those who don’t play ball,
that’s a helping hand. Onto the street.
He’s firm but fair.
The only thing he lacks is hair.
“The Bullet”; “Cue ball”,
He really thinks he’s something. He is: