Of sealing wax

The Carpenter, a bit confused

To hear the phrase the Walrus used,

Said, "Though I'm sure you'd think I should

Know all about the care of wood,

It never crossed my mind before!

I've only ever waxed the floor.

No, even in a house with wooden

Ceilings, I confess I shouldn't 

Wax 'em. Just as too much polish

Makes a wall look quite unwallish,

Ceilings should be flat and boring,

Not as shiny as the flooring.

I've never thought the ceiling calls

For wax, and neither do the walls,

And so I move we give the axe

To further talk of ceiling wax."

"O Carpenter, pray wax not wood!

You have, I fear, misunderstood.

I never, knowing of your feelings,

Meant to speak at all of ceilings!

I rather, knowing how you feel,

Had meant to say a waxing seal.

I am, I fear, no longer young,

And prone to slippage of the tongue,

But I am privy to some facts

About a seal and how it waxed,

On which I think you'll find it worth

Your time to hear me holding forth."

The Carpenter responded naught

But nodded (so the other thought,

For he was old and quite myopic).

The Walrus, warming to his topic,

Thought this all the leave he needed

To proceed, and so proceeded.

"This seal, whom you could say I've known

For all my life, weighs eightscore stone

And now is old -- 'long in the tooth,'

As people say -- but in his youth . . ."

Thus on and on the Walrus went

And waxed what passed for eloquent

Upon this seal -- the things it ate

And how it grew and put on weight,

And how it waxed both fat and strong,

And how its teeth grew very long.

And as he talked into the night,

The Carpenter was most polite

And never spoke a single word

To interrupt the tale he heard.

Of this the Walrus then made mention

And praised the other's rapt attention.

And this was odd because, you know,

He'd nodded off some time ago.