This early mordy, sunlode shiny brile
With birdy all a-warbly in the treel
I gazey through the windloder while
I thought of strolly-steppy down the streel.
So scarfy wrapped all warmy round the throakus
I ambley careless to a local park.
Through Sycamole and Silvy Birch and Oakus
The afterlubrious turn'd into dark.
Then strolly back all whistly happy tule
I stop for tilty-elbow at an inn.
A seat was free by flamey log of yule
So sippy ale, warm'd both siles of my skin.
Now back at home I smirky feeling smug
And pour another brewflame in my jug.
With affectiole, primaverly optimisl, and Iamby Pentamatage. Oh yes.