A Birthday Ode To Jon Stone

Jon Stone is a tengu.
Does it not trouble you, his nose?
A tool most grandiose
from which no distant rose could hide
nor ill-perfumed backside.
When Pinocchio lied, his snout
grew like a water spout
yet Jon's, there is no doubt, stands tall,
colossal, dwarfing all
proboscis by no small degree
from Nepal to Fiji.
Just like Waluigi, beaky,
his hooter looks sneaky,
dripping cock-o-leeky-esque snot
like some leaky soup pot.
The world agrees, there's not a conk
with so much zesty honk.