If love were my bililligig
and thou my comely sorrcondor,
I’d shirren courst thine eyes assiligig
as mine own gane sizzon begondor.
Oh, mine hertzen hurtzen!
How could thoust be so frigidid
to blangst a sorrow murtzen
and forganen mine own brigidid?
Days pas in sorrest somburlen,
deviling in dark with horrdicap mourn.
I succumb to thoughts vorboturten,
comfort resangst your sassascorn.
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