Perhaps you hate when your pen runs dry.
If so, my black ink’s the one to try.
My mixture is passed from father to son
So you be sure not to tell anyone.

In order to make my special ink,
You must gather some – wait, let me think.
Yes, a pinch of night sky, a piece of coal,
And just a clump of hair from Beauty’s foal.

A gallon of tar, a zebra’s stripe,
Eight cups of crude oil from the ground pipes.
Be sure to get a buzzard’s tail feather
And thunder clouds during stormy weather.

Put all in a caldron, black and big.
Bring to a boil and stir with a twig.
Leave for an hour and fill your pen then.
This will last forever – no more dying pen!