How am I supposed to enjoy a brillig day if these toves keep gyring and gimbling in my wabe?! Those slithy little beasts are acting as if they own the place! The borogoves, too! All mimsical, they are! I'm in half the right mind to hire the raths to outgrabe them, mome as they are. And don't even suggest the Bandersnatch. That frumious fiend is far from fit for fighting.
Comments
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead