Skoob Birthday Eve - Er, bit of chill it was!
The Scoob, for all his leathers, was a-cold;
And hare lip'd trembling through the smouldering grass,
[Very nearly falling on his arse!...]
Silent was the crew in italic bold,
Numb were the Spoofer's fingers, while he trolled
For his suppository,
and while his Stella'd breath,
Like pies incensed from a censor old,
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, aintgottaprayer,
Past the naked Virgin's fanny, while his prayer he saith...
[With sincere and heartfelt apologies to John Keats (1795-1821) who wrote the original in 1819 while living and drinking and fornicating in Hampstead, the lucky bastard...bet he would have made a great Spoofer if only a time warp etc etc]