(with apologies to Lewis Carrol)
She trombled forth upon the hour
when it had been bedont.
the marlips every one in flower,
the vys in rows of mont.
But she must otwend, so she did.
and left them sitting fair.
the Mun was shining like a pid,
so she mustn't tarry there.
The quargs had all just gone ahead
the kittims also frowne,
she was afraid that she'd be fread,
so she trombled on mesone.
© Bonnie Gardner, 1997