Dummy

Ventriloquist has a dummy
And he calls it Clive
But he's not just a wooden bloke
For at night he comes alive
See, Clive is a rare talent
And he finds it quite a farce
That he's the one performing
With a hand inside his arse
Clive could go it on his own
Doesn't need ventriloquist
So he's developing an act
With a rather unique twist
Clive wants to be the master
And strike out for some fame
A calculating dummy
Human puppetry's his aim
But late one fateful evening
A coal fell from the grate
And with no separate digits
Poor Clive could see his fate
The moral then, of this one is
Be grateful of your lot
And if you're a nasty wooden bloke
Things could get rather hot...