Some unscrupulous to say clott'd crocks,in their autarky of cloudcukoo land,overwhelmed through its artery of gallantry and heroism,Oft did the old lady heave hardihood to her ovation realm,Which art had gilded flowers and purple birth;Blazing the sunken flowers in the muddlepath therein, That cockeyed cock'd hat knocks had purloined insularity in cavaliers, And often savaging,what discontents,it crows,yelling unfathom'd yippies,in beautitudes of profound caddles,manifold in every comme ill fault,An innumerable silvermoon,supplanted from an eccletics,it drew,Of hackney'd and rudder bank
No comments:
Post a Comment