Dali doodled on doilies daily,
though what he drew
no one knew.
His strange and sinister sketches,
might portray a mediaeval shrew;
but the onlooker just hadn’t a clue.
Dali did die in a way that men do,
with his brush at the ready,
and his palette there, too.
And he melted away,
though his work stands askew;
and we gasp at his surrealist stew.