Zabaglione Macaroni had a weasel he called Tony,
Kept him in a kidney stone, fed him Stilton Cheese and bone,
Said the Weasel, let me sing, Lady Gaga, Wagner's Ring,
But Zabaglione shook his head, any singing, you are dead,
So the Weasel packed his bag, took his tools and woodwork mag,
Sailed tramp steamer to Milan, bought a used Sardinian can,
Said La Scala here I come, when suddenly he was struck dumb,
So signed the opera, took his bow, he living in Los Angels now,
Where they love him, best of all, booked him at Carnegie Hall,
And opera buffs do say as one, when the singing's said and done,
We love Tony, we'll be bound, he sings it all without a sound.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved