Pinky and Perky

In the pink (in monochrome)
Your hairless trotters tapped;
In every television's home,
Your audience was trapped.

Double-tracked, soprano pigs,
You squealed like chalk on slate,
And on our eyes and ears, your jigs
Would permanently grate.

Your strings were all too visible,
You warbled without art;
And even now, I'd like to pull
Your puppeteer apart.

The standards that you murdered! Why,
You turned them into blether.
I hope your grave's a hellish sty
Where you belong together.

From Rime Present

Pinky and Perky