Shavings of a Lunatic

In tiny steps i climbed aloft With chambermaid and pepper pot. To see the Wizzle of the Snad Make umphle of the ichybad. 'Tis oft the beast that burdens both The hunter and the Gruffalo, For from its jaggy jagged jaws Drool dripping on its mighty paws A sound of uttish farple dread Farpled from its snarly head, And with a goonish glare declared, 'Has anybody seen my hair? My frabjous fringe and luscious locks Have fallen off between my socks! They've gone and took a holiday Just where i really cannot say. Oh woe is me! Oh woe i say, A Wizzle with a bad hair day. A Wizzle of the Snad gone bald My Granny would be so appalled. She would be simply cross as cross And own me like a proper boss. Because she was, which isn't wrong As hairy as a Whangdibong!'