In this tune, you will spy a bit repeated. Why? Anaphora.
In this tune, there will rhyme the same three words six times--and a fourth? Na.

Hellish thing, repeating, -ting, -ting, repeating, -ting, -ting--
I don't sing voce bella.
Start each phrase the same way, then stray. Have you lost your place?
Find your way, errant fella.

[alternate verse, with "beller" being a regional pronunciation of "bellow":
Hellish thing, repeating, -ting, -ting, repeating, -ting, -ting--
I don't sing voce bella.
Start each phrase the same way, oy vey! what you say, you bray
Like a spayed-ferret beller.]

In this tune, seems like school, with a pastor with rule that would score ya.
In this tune there's a beat, but it's drowned in repeats at the front.
In this tune, a bad dream, it make you want to scream, and it bore ya.
In this tune, re-do-ti, each da capo leads to anaphora.

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When loony Chico guys hits golf balls toward his wife: "Anna, fore-a!"
What he blurts when she drives, using a number five: "Anna, four-a!"

Swells who swing. "Ringa-dinga-ding, ringa-dinga-ding,"
Frankie sings, fino, bello.
Pars they'll play, lips'll sip away, tipple-tip all day,
Tight that way, Dino bellows.

When Chico's on a stool, wanting pasta to spool--"Anna, fork-a!"
There's an entrancing treat; he has vowed that he'll eat what he loves.
The Alfredo has cream. . .so hot steam from it makes an aurora.
"'Scusa me," then says he, grabs a rolled cannoli, at a forno.