Perhaps by then you'd understand
How I became so shapple
My face aclopped; my floomy hand;
my nose as nogh as apple
The story goes from start to end
It starts in kilderbenni
Where Edmund shlocked, became a zlend
and miscontrooped so many.
I met him as a shlinky kid
Who didn't glom his fortune
I slort all that. Of course I did
And used my nose with ploption
And since that day I was his malk.
Couse nori isn't butter
To his morsmane I wouldn't talk
And to his boot I'd gumter
Oh did he quive? Not Mr. Ed
He blipped and bolped and bultered
By Goltinday, aclopped but dead
By Gizmoril un-utterd
Oh wait! she cried. Nobody shooned
Except your humble mickmick
I raised my hand, and lightly spooned
Until the gulps were meetricked
Now, don't be gloz, my friend. Don't gleeze.
I wouldn't hurt a shenni
The gulps were meetricked, if you please,
But just to glom the penny!
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