Our Mr. Lee Ho

The Great Moustachioed Impresario
He travels by night
Like a truth-bearing saint
Stealthy street artist
Caught in the act
He cuts quite a figure
Our Mr. Lee Ho
From his tiny sharp boots
On his tightly bound feet
To kimono wrapped wildly askew
Barely tethered below his fat belly
His face is obscured
As a good secret should be
His crown slipped and sadly slung low
Now a soot-laden mask
But a reach and a spread
That still rivals the most virile stag
Our Mr. Lee Ho
How he flits and he twirls
Braving all of the fiercest of weathers
To tell stories to All
Of most massive import
And urge deeds of the greatest endeavour.