Twas brillig when the cheap du jour
rang from the snout of the Whinnyflure
and all the fizzards of Canemacarry
(even the Beegluns who cheap so nary)
stepped from their hosiers and cheaped: Filure!
which goundled across the Fetid Inane
where the Gab at the Flitties careeshed their tane,
For never before had a Whinnyflure
gauched of his own a la shim: Filure!
The Squarry Malts cried out: Infane! .
Out came the Gab-at-the-Flitties en miss
to halt this influsion, this glave of polliss.
Their pithers went pize and their nabes ka-thunk
When the cormokadruther unfashed his Zunk,
the fizzards lay loozed by the noodling Niss.
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