And all of them from the genius of Edward Gorey.
I’m quoting these from memory, so they may be slightly misquoted.

The first born of Mrs. Keats-Shelly
Came to light with its face on its belly
The second was born
With a hump and a horn
And the third was as shapeless as jelly.

Each night father fills me with dread
As he sits at the foot of my bed
I’d mind not that he speaks
In jibbers and squeaks
But for seventeen years he’s been dead.

The sight of his guests filled Lord Cray
At breakfast with horrid dismay
So he launched off his spoons
The pits of his prunes
At their heads as they neared the buffet.

The man was a GENIUS I tells ya!