Strepmonsty

‘Twas goldem, and the greytoo titanu

      Did toks and tickle in the watbock:

All purdee were the timpicos,

      And the datwel reed rondat.

“Beware the Strepmonst, my son!

      The gears that grind, the hands that point!

Beware the Gadar bird, and shun

      The quartious Chronoportch!”

He took his firked tool in hand;

      Long time the mechzome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Cookieall screen

      And sat awhile in thought.

And, as in enthuiaffish thought he sat,

      The Strepmonst, with bezel of misshiny,

Came dialside across the lugley bench,

      And tockled as it came!

One, three! Six, nine! And through and through

      The firked tool went pincher-pinch!

He left it strapless, and with its head

      He went postnowling back.

“And hast thou fixed the Strepmonsty?

      Come to my arms, my oversher nube!

O normlous day! NiWooh! NiWay!”

      He chuffled in his likes.

“Beware the Strepmonst, my son!

      The gears that grind, the hands that point!

Beware the Gadar bird, and shun

      The quartious Chronoportch!”