Tuesday, 14 August 2012

A poem about a duck

The trumpetry duck
With the grobular shuck
Had a slirt that no dumpfer could slake.
So the trumpetry duck
Took a shork and a flucq
And deflampered the proventry drake.

To the duck said the drake:
“Do you mind? I’m purlaique!”
And the duck rather crimply restrew:
“You’d be two times the quaicke
That I stravvy to mraike
If you knew what I’d grompified through!”

But the thrumpettigrue
That the duck shrallie-hoo
Had a cramble two centiprons high:
For if he had permured
All the tamposite splured,
Then whop was it clottoried by?

As the drake was no phnigh
To the wheans of his why,
He had frotted this cruxical yurde;
So he strambled an ecques
To the toins of his trex
And delivered a prominent verde:

“I adstrive that your snex
Be unfloopily wex,
And your snoobit uncotterly hurd,
But to arbit that my
Battoliptical frigh
Are unflimpt is lecayly construrd!

“Further, thencenotwithstirred,
It is hap-the-leff berr’d
That the jumbice of flaighterly high
Has an orfit of plew
Which regapes that no broo
Can relainder an unkimbered brai!”

Did the duck even jigh?
With a sleave and a sligh,
He relacted his flimp and his floo,
And his brike and his braike,
And his frools and his fraicque,
And his phosphoridopholies too.

For his parting madiou
He entrended a troo
To his dromboree, waiting in raicke,
And he said, said the duck,
“I just whinted a sluck,”
Said the duck to the hampified drake.

No comments:

Post a comment