Auntie Toothache

"isn't it strange," said the inkwell
 "all that comes out of me!
 the famous lines! the valentines!
 just think! without an inkwell, where
 would the poet be?"
 "I'll make you change your mind,"
 said the pen, plucked from the tail
 of a bird
 "those famous lines, those valentines
 I wrote them, every word
 without a pen, never again would
 poetry be heard."
 forget the inkwell and the pen
 when auntie toothache comes again
 the poet, saddest of all men
 can sing no more
 when auntie toothache starts her torture
 with her pliers and her lance and her fires
 she desires him to dance
 and so they dance, dance, dance, dance
 dance, dance, dance
 and auntie toothache wields her tongs
 and makes her poet sing her songs
 in screams and whimpers, till he longs
 to die right now
 then auntie toothache makes him vow
 (with one more cup of fire ants)
 that he'll give up poetry and take up dance
 and so they dance, dance, dance, dance
 dance, dance, dance
 he never writes another line
 his life becomes a valentine
 to auntie toothache and her fine
 degress of pain
 from lack of sleep he goes insane
 and fancies he's the king of france
 beset by bees
 auntie toothache whispers, "dance!"
 and so they dance, dance, dance, dance
 dance, dance, dance
 and they dance, dance, dance, dance
 dance, dance, dance