Doth the whippersnapper snap the whip
or does the snapperwhipper whip the snap?
Watch your tongues, the silghtest slip
might land you deep inside a trap.
A gong of teal, a steel-made tong
has made us all a little strange
The days grow short, the nights grow long
would you kindly fetch some sage?
Twisted runs the poet’s mouth
and quickly do all things go south
Out of the drugged sleep, be roused
you worthless, horrid, dirty louse.
See, this was written entirely without purpose, structure, or meaning. At least Carroll left room for interpretation. I’m quite proud of the meter in this poem (which I wrote almost entirely on autopilot) and the rhyme, which I did not ONCE refer to a rhyming dictionary for.
This post begins a series of posts categorized under “nonsense.”