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!'
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