Rapairel fortifies the sink
By escapades upon the links
And going on a kleptomanic jag
Robbing golfers by the score
While they're busy, yelling "Fore!"
And nicking all the tee-towels from their bags.

He'll pretend he's on a stroll
And sniff around the fifteenth hole
And say he's searching for a ball awry,
Then the golfers in their ruts
Focused on their drives and putts
Will never see him slide up on the sly!

ANd their curses won't befoul us
When they find their bags are towel-less
We'll be snug and safe and sound at home!
Slimy as the ocean fishes
Rapaire's doing up the dishes
Let the towelless golfers fuss and foam!!

Old Rapaire, from Pocatello,
Is a most ingenious fellow!
Never lacks a towel or a poem
Where others buy or write (with wheezes)
He just grabs what e'er he pleases!
Recession's not a problem in the Bookman's happy home!!!