Today, everything's a joke you know,
If we look too hard, I suppose, baby's bath water we'd throw.
So, when someone asked where I gather material
For one after another little serial,
I laugh and say quite seriously,
“It's the muse,” you see.
Well, of course, everyone knows
There's no muse in draping clothes,
But for the moment I'm released,
Questions have ceased.
“And, who knows,” they think,
Maybe she is over the brink.
So it's a good story,
And I'm sticking with it, no worry.
