Ode to a young wobbartmould  Slinkmuck mine, Oh how I bestraddle thy gurglings! On fettid slobbernuts I craw and splain 'Nixt ever mutid mangle-knobs. Yea, forever splooned is my gutted wivverlock Since first I crulpt o'er mire and mean I mean to say, why are you so grottid? It festles my grotch e'er more, you see. Yet grot if ye must, and burble my bladderskot My bladderskot burst afore I met thee Go fiddlecoop, young wobbartmould, this greenfeckled morning And I'll mould thy wobbart to the slinkmuck of me. Get me out of here |