In the heart of Zeus's fury dost dwell, Whirling dervish of chaos to tell, A dance most wild, Spinning beguiled, In Athena's eye, thou'lt surely befell.

I yearn for the sea, With no sails I'm forlorn, 'cause I'm now in the clink. It's a dollar per corn.

A fiery breath from ancient lore, guardian of treasure, with scales that shimmer like a mythical armor, soaring through legends of old.

I am every day except for one that one leaps in when its his time And If I'm Greg or Julian Is how he'll set his rhyme.

Toll free, for the most part, unless in a church. Be careful when you ring to call, for you could summon Lurch. Cleanings must be done, weather can leave brass besmirched. Don’t have a cow, there’s one that’s cracked, in its center, Philly perched.