Resting on the writhing table
Waiting for the motion to be tabled
For it's stocked with a lot
For the enjoyment of all

Oh! My writing glass
Why lying so idle?
For there is nothing to table
For the emptiness of the table must be filled

Ah! how can you
Oh! my writing glass
Certainly become idle
Time waits for no man

Arise my writing glass
Keep writing out of nothing
Because something comes out of nothing
So keep keeping on

Give out some riddles
Even though they maybe fable
But there must be a sense
Out of what is called nonsense