That handy machine, working very precisely, removed all the nails from their foreheads quite nicely. Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about. They opened their beaks and proceeded to shout,
We now know who's who, and there isn't a doubt,
The best kind of Stickmen are Stickmen without.
Then, of course those with nails all got frightfully mad. To have a nail in your head now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course old Sylvester McMonkey McFuck invited them into his nails-off construct. Then, of course from then on, you can probably guess, things really got into a horrible mess.
