The Ballad of the Xaxanion Toadstool

The world farts a hippopotamus' surname to the end turtle,
Going with large vertices to end the hurtle.
The rebounding werewolf says bonk to please the happy castle,
Evil dragons breathing pink elephants from a parcel.
The jealous zebra in Leeds- a street of pheasants,
Throws meat to the gong to please the peasants.
When Zoblad - the honking duck of measles,
Grows weary of brushing teeth with teasels,
And Wagnarog - the giant mirror,
Releases hideous reflections of terror.
Then I shall wait, and on the sand
The forces of confusion shall spread through the land.
The resting zlangoons shall awake,
They shall demand their golden rake
With which to sweep away the fleas
Which so badly plague their hairy knees.
Mreoow says the restful wrangling rat,
As Prrrrrrrap the daemon grabs his baseball bat.
The giant friendly Marlinwake,
Snaps hungrily at his demented cake,
And brings the child of Klorn to bake
A slanting wobbly mouse.
With cries of “Greet the boggling Thog,
“And give him gifts of boiled frog."
The crinkly wrinkly Zibzabod
Did leave his feline house.
A Not of Vildam shall enter in,
It brings a pint of fish milk to him,
The Zibzabod did laugh and cry,
“You can stick it in your pointy eye."
And the offended Not did leave,
A dagger with which his fish did cleave.
And so I come to rest my tome,
Or else I fear your mouth would foam.
But I leave you with these last few words,
‘Och zib and zab those frolicing birds,
‘Always beat a goldfish, that’s my rule.’
Quoth the Xaxanion Toadstool.

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