Ode to TFoS #27

I felt
The mighty cleaver
Carve into my back

Oh, woe!
I have a meat
Cleaver in my back!

But, no
It is not so!
As I've been saved...

Saved
By some rags
That most toss aside as trash
But they're acting rather rash
For they do not know the power
The power of

(chorus) T F O S!

YEAH!

These mighty towels
Protect my bowels
They make me feel
That I've no
Achilles' heel
You ain't gotta know
How to sew
Cuz this bloke
Cannot be broke!

OH! OH! NO SEW!

(chorus)
You just can't break it
Whoa, no!
You just can't take it
Oh, whoa!
It's the size of a ticket!
But you can't
Find it in a thicket!
(end chorus)

If it's anything at all
I think that it I will call
A name known by fame
By the four simple letters of

(chorus) T F O S!

I gotta have one!

(chorus) T F O S!

Makes me feel zesty!

(chorus) T F O S!

Makes me feel healthy!

(chorus) T F O S!

But I think that I can kill this butcher fiend
Because now I know that I am mighty clean
After a short talk with my friend
I know for sure that TFoS'll be with me

(chorus) 'Till the end!

It's such a good, true friend

(chorus) 'Till the end!

No matter what's around the other bend!

(chorus) 'Till the end!

(silence)

C'mon, we can take him!

*sound of a door opening*
*sound of a meat cleaver slicing through flesh... horrifying screams of agony*

Ode to TFoS #729

'Tis bleak e'eryday
In Sanctuary
Land where rags
Are thrown away like pillow tags
So, no hero shall you see adorned
With TFoS and Gotter's Horns

Ode to TFoS #19683

Eons have come and gone since
The creation of the rags
Its owners overjoyed till
The fates snuffed out their candles
Feel sorrow not; they ne'er did
Instead wish for their blissful
Object: The Torn Flesh of Souls

Ode to TFoS #531441

Once upon a Tuesday morn' I pricked myself upon a thorn
"Ow!" I shout; I kicked the shrub, another bruise, another stub.
Orange roses bloom merrily while I swear quite uncaringly
"O'er the hills, I'd kick thee bush! Then once more right in the tush!"
And it replied, "Your soul is mine."

Feeling dizzy, feeling glum I turn around calling the bush dumb
Fleshy rags unhide themselves; out of nowhere come scores of elves
"Farthing for yer mind?" asks an imp, rather unkind
Frightened now, trying to flee, but I've found my legs are roots of a tree!
The rags then spoke, "You will grow limes."

Now you know how long ago I became part of the rags that need no sew
Never will you hear from me that 'tis bad to be a tree
Nor shall you ever hear this story whispered in your ear
Never, unless of course, you wear the rags that lack remorse
Here them now, again they speak, "Take one a day; call me in a week."

Ode to TFoS #14348907

Shreds ripped from my body
A potion won't do
Pepin's perplexed
Says I need a body brand-new

Pain herbs wearing off
I'm flat on my back
I was about to die
When it fell out of my pack

A bundle of rags
Irregular shape
They bound right to me
When Pepin took off my cape

Miraculous rags!
I feel really great
Pepin's amazed
At the skin-healing drape!

Everyone said it wasn't worth keeping
I argued with them
But they wouldn't listen
Well, I'm alive; they're dead
And I've got a new mission!

Spreadin' the word!
Take heed, my friend
Torn, tiny towels
Can heal any rend!
What be the name
Of this mystical medic?
Torn Flesh of Souls
Don't you ever forget it!

Ode to TFoS #387420489
(To the tune of "Irish Drinking Song," a skit on the American version of "Whose Line Is It Anyway?"
The refrain is spelled as accurately as I could guess it.)

I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee I

Oh, once there was this rags, man
They were very fine
When I first saw them
They were covered in grime
But I cleaned 'em up, sir
They're splendid as can be
Only complaint I have o' them
Is they don't fully cover me!

Oh I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee I

Oh, once I was a bathin'
I was really soaked
I found and used a towel
Even though it was broked
Embroidered on the bottom
Was a phrase printed thrice
"Torn Flesh of Souls" it read
And I now need treatment for lice!

Oh I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee I

Oh, e'ery once in awhile
I go to see my friend Laz
We always fight into the night
Until one of us passes gas
Whosoever does this
Concedes the argument
Giving up the Trophy rags
That were heaven sent!

Oh I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee,
I Dee I Dee
I Deeee
I Deeee
I!!!

Ode to TFoS #10460353203

Tiny, golden rags gli'trin' on the floor
I approached them; thought I couldn't carry any more
Though I had but four spaces left within my pack
These compact rags fit right into my sack

Odd little thing; kinda warm to the touch
I equipped them and to my chest they did clutch
Though I can't determine a way to take them off
I dunna think I'll need to! HA! Go ahead and scoff

Ode to TFoS #282429536481
(spoken by Gillian)

Tavern's usually a wonderful spot
E'eryone always drinks quite a lot
Whenever it happens and one drinks too much
He'll strip off 'is clothes and show off his butts
Griswold usually hears the loud ruckus
Smithy boots the man from the tavern; he lands on his tuckus

Last night, however, ol' Gris was this drunk
He hopped right around an' showed off his rump
Oddly enough, upon further inspection
I saw that man had a nasty infection
Carting 'im over to Pepin's shack
The healer strapped ol' Gris down an' knocked 'im out with a *CRACK!*

Proctologist Pepin, doctor supreme
Gave Gris a look over, saw what there was to be seen
The doc got some rags an' soaked 'em in oil
He used them on Griswold; when he was done he was soil'd
To me, said he "This 'ere cloth is magical stuff.
Torn Flesh of Souls will heal Griswold's duff."

When it was all over Griswold was glum
'E was fully embarssed that he'd showed off 'is bum
But 'e just couldn't fathom what had gone wrong
(So I won't tell him this is immortalized in a song)
As it should happen, as Pepin later explained
Gris'd been bit by a flea that was in his trousers contained

Let this be a lesson to everyone
(As you've no TFoS to heal up your bums)
Cheak your pants for fleas before wear, if you please!

Ode to TFoS #5846297484987

What is that odor coming from you?
If I may say so, you've an abnormal hue
Say, are you juandiced? And your hair's turning blue
What's going on? Now you look like a ewe!

I feel light-headed, and you smell like a shoe...

The world was bizarre when I came to
The meadows of barkchips were covered in dew
A sheep was nearby nibbling glue
I should never buy Pixips sold on Cain Avenue

I hear a shout. Maybe a clue?...

I see an attacker trying to hew:
An ancient witch away from her stew
A carpenter away from his yew
A canine away from some poo
A phantom away from his "Boo!"

I taste grass and then I moo...

Torn to bits as if on cue
Flesh rent to shreds by a zoo
Of life mine's overdue
Seals play the last kazoo

Just when I think I've gone cuckoo
My TFoS yelps "End this poem, you creep you!"