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.

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