Days of Merry Winkage
Created | Updated Mar 6, 2003
Days of Merry Winkage
Be froodle for a moment and imagine if you can
In the days of merry winkage long before the rise of man
When wribble sticks were common in the foothills of The Froon
And nooblings coincided with the cycles of the moon
There was nothing in the wrimbles, even less upon the fnoo
The inhabitants of Blarkle looked like neither me nor you
It wasn't in the flockets of the waddling bimblebod
Its absence from the whole of Upper Basildon seemed odd
It was missing from the Widgeloos, and hidden from the sneet
Lost amongst the non-existent, hidden by the incomplete
Consumed by gribbly fidgeons and bediddled by the fnick
The nooblers wanted answers, they wanted answers quick
Well the answer wasn't coming for at least a mildred-blatt
So we might not ever know what all the nooblers made of that
But at least if you should ever find yourself upon the Froon
You can tell which way to look by flicking bumblies at the moon
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