PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- SONNET-17

As fast as thou shalt dread,so fast in the pits,thou cringest,In weariness,weary tides thineself weari'd from that which thou squeaky clean pulses, And that whole bag of tricks,that necklaced bah,which so cuddingly bestowest, Thou mayest not wield the bigsticks with brassy bowls of bigotry,when thou thy transmogrify earnestly craves,Herein hibernates to unleash willpower of benign naturewit,Without this stupor of blockheadedness and ill-wind blustery,not a rot of a bolshi'd bloke endears,Let those