The Murgid Berdilist
"A verdok!" said the berdilist while rurling on his berdle,
"I want a cisky verdok in the dask of the gormoe!"
But on the awt-side of the klug, a borgsome treedle jaskled,
A protched, wutched, worgid horp that could not match a verdok.
The berdilist then in torstor murgid,
Kreeged and reebed and fubbaged.
For never was a berdilist bereft of verdok cisky,
So in his quilsted bastor, he turned a herfy hue.
"Biedwist, you jeggids," cursed the rurler,
Of the faymlus Nacklish berdle,
"I's graborsked there for a herklish moment,
By the absence of trombones."
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