One of two brothers played cello
the other gorged fondly on jello.

Such confliction of style
could last only awhile.

Cello brandished a bow;
Gourmet's spoon struck a blow.

Pierced and cudgeled they swoon
in the late afternoon.

Each man had a mission
but now needs a physician.

Better than half dead
might the brothers have said,

"Let's trade jello for cello,
then see if we bellow."

Being locked into culture
can call forth the vulture,

When a quaint turnabout
might put mischief to rout.

But one can't defy nature
or change nomenclature.

Now recovered, one brother
plays rake to the cello;

And the other adds wine
to his fruit-sprinkled jello.