He's gloochier than a heffalump,
though somewhat of fraptode chump.
(Don't tell him!)
He snortles around rocks and stones
and loves to grind up brittle bones
of those who sit and kronk alone
to fell him...
He snortles over hill and dale
while gruttling for a fructus bale
of weedpoke stems, or bragmus tails
He snortles up the stairs at night
to give all babtot kips a fright
by smogrifying all the light,
Best clup your eyes and huj your snout
whenever Snozmole Wump's about...
Oh, no! My fribble friends, lookout!
With thanks to Tess and apologies to Kelsey Hannah for this flight of fancy for The Mag 214.