I was scapoomping down the charsay on a varmonious neon day.
I thunkered upon a scarshwog and punkered up what to say...
"Farvo! Mr. Scarshwog, nis you see the varmonious day?"
"Rey!Rey!" The wog replied, and boped barring away.
Sumbered by his exut, I winued farther on,
with the neon slobbering my face and Mr. Scarshwog newly gone.
A plink fell from above and dashed my dainty crown.
"Gerrar! Gerrar!" And I slushed quickly around ...
A moger in a snee harled with glee and raised another plink towards me.
"Nay! Mr. Moger, tis my charsay
you can not spake my varmonious day!"
Con the neon slobbering on my face and the charsay beneath my digits,
I raised my crown towards the neon and set off towards the limering higits...
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