At the end of the line and beyond the queue
There is a lonely letter contemplating the end
He is an antisocial kind of symbol adrift and blue
He is so underused it’s a godsend
Why did you have come after me?
You did not always want to hide
Deciphering mysteries down to a tee
Oh what the hell is wrong with me?
If you don’t open your eyes
If you don’t rattle that brain of yours
You will not see the enigma of the sigma
You did not imagine that paws had claws
Word play is not only Countdown on Channel Four
We have been playing this game for years
Secretly inserting vulgar innuendos for fun
Pugwash was very close to Seaman Staines
If the American humor is not the English humour
Then how can I make them all laugh along
When my deep dark sense of humour cannot be translated
I can’t even make those Italians laugh
Build a house of cards in a tropical rainstorm
Going against the odds when the numbers are even
Prime numbers have got a primal instinct
And the queens’ language is the best way to curse
Sending an anonymous letter to one’s self
When drowning you come to your own aid
When breathless you see things in a different light
Shitting yourself is always the best goodnight
What is the Zee but the sign of deep sleep?
What is the Zee but a sound of a busy bee?
Why is the Zee the start of a port in Belgium?
Why it could not be just Bruge on sea.
Zee is too shy to come forward
Zee likes to stand behind everyone else
When A is ahead of the crowd and first in line
Zee likes to get the tail end of the storm
Zee had a dilemma and it was than before
If he was last in line like always in this parts
If he was dashing to the toilet needing to pee
How could he resist 25 times the wait?
Zee does not like be placed in a box
He does want to be a free spirit
But he gets classed as the last of the alphabet
Yet he has no Ts to cross
A sorry tale of a letter in frustration
Hounded and harassed by the rest of the class
How he wished he was born a cute little number
How he loved to be part of culture in maths
So with sadness our letter sits last in line
Used so sparingly in the English dialect
Feeling like an afterthought an underused stain
Tired now our letter falls asleep