doth the frosted wimbly woes
froth with thine crusty toes
from forth the wiggly paradox
sprang the fate of sniggly socks
out the depths of pit so deep
something foul saw fit to creep
around the squalid squishy mire
the thing paraded its attire
clad in a melon coloured fez
the thing it looks at me and sez,
"'ey! what 'ave ewe done with me sox?"
indeed, a sniggly paradox.
I dashed across the quick slick sand
fled the beast from foreign land
yet in my fear I did wonder
what words from great beast did thunder
had I heard his howling right
am I accused of accursed plight