The Hum Mew Zing Night Owl

more often than not, a knightly surge combs a pawn me, especially after the stroke of midnight, when hermetically sealed in my rookery, where bats in the belfry flap their wings at the speed of sound times ten thence, this king heads to his counting house (which doubles asthma Perkiomen Valley bishopric) to economize on space, especially during tax time (as April fifteenth slowly approaches, me heartbeat doth) quicken though becalmed, when imbibing idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified, particularly speaking on the telly phone with Ken Burns, whose trademark documentaries, particularly War between the States, where even roosting hen got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben a fit to this American Civil War Yankee incarnate, whose doodling word ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!