Istan bulls love constantin opal
Just as bishops tend to wax epi scopal
And when kept up high, a tug on a rope’ll
Quick release them precious jewels.
Even fools love all kinds of opal
Clear from Pakistan to Constantinople
And when asked to part, an emphatic nope’ll
Usher forth despite the rules.
You won’t go back once exposed to opal.
Now, if you’re a bull, a glimmer of hope’ll
Manifest without the prickle of nopal.
You just might convince the mules.
When suds are few, a fun bar of soap’ll
Cause the brash young bulls to dash antelopal
So no least of them becomes mis antropal.
We’re as bound as molecules.