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Kate Rancid
The Lub-Lub fosted on a twink
With wosting facets slithing nigh.
His churling hibs were ponting winth,
The grimble-grumble warthing by.
A chumple tree with laundered brags
That wingle-drimpled with soaken weaves,
The Lub-Lub did negate his snags
Among the gorpin's slinking tweeves.
And who did winth with dreggy polls,
That lithe beneathe the crail,
The Lub-Lub when the cassit folls,
And splinters torten pale?
Now winch a while with warten wisps,
And pert a slinken chunk,
The Lub-Lub dunks his curping chisk
And windles whence his dunk.
So twomble on with flompet nog,
And timble forth with shimp,
The croaky wint by fiery trog
Trilks wembling while she dimps.
A bilking shomp was crinkle dust,
It weaved its womp with woe.
The Lub-Lub sidled tubular tust,
And bawled a bleeting blow.
