Rolled flingers in your hand,
The hand with the rhinal touch. . .
A rime-pull clutch.

Not-so-old flingers
Beckon you to send ’em off with a flick—
But on they stick.

Roll ’em firm like wax scored from your ear,
Then apply a tip flick—they’re still here!
And you hold ’em, permanently sticking—
They’re affixed; you’re vexed,
No flicking rolled flingers.

Little pearls are there on your parts that hold
These dig bits rolled,

Rolled up firm like wax scored from your ear.
You’ve applied a tip flick—they’re still here!
As you hold ’em, perchance you’ll be licking
Digit tips; ingest
Those sticking rolled flingers.

Little pearls repair to your parsnip hole—
You part with rolls,
Make lunch of those rolls,
Nosy rolls,
Cheap lunch, rolls,
Cheap, luscious-not, rolls,
Nose-clean rolls,
Unflung rolls.