The wallow, he cried and screamed by the shore.
"More, please, Oh! more,"
But it wasn't to be.
All trumsy were the bafe; the waferers pollywuk,
While the gitlers were whining and sighing the same.
The wallow, he wallowed by the sands and the sea
But never called out to be freggle for thee.
A wish as a pint, and a place to be sought,
Aloft in the dresdend above the frejok.
"Just so!" cried a voice, breole and sane,
"For the drabe of the land is the wallower's game!"
"Alak!" swore the wallow, "I'm not but to be,
"Since linters and diftly did splinter the sea."
However, the spokle joined them just then
And brought with it the lollying hen.
"Forelse," said the hen, "And we'll woo it again."
The leaking and spewing of prolifing denned.
So if you are to walk by the shore,
A decling and drezdle are to be implored.
Question and fregel, the munsea will wallow
As the wallow did in the brongs of tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of Poetic's: Too Heavy to Hold
PoetryThis is a collection of poetic works that come straight from my heart. As the title implies, these are works that allow me to let go of strong, heartfelt emotions that are often not the best to keep bottled up. I hope that I may use my knowledge of...
