The Last Words of the Jabberwock

‘Twas dwinkly whilst the tunklies old

Did slobre through the TumTum sky;

All stundrid were the smuppy brood,

And no tove and mome would ask why.

The sun flies by the Tulgey Wood.

My Crest is stained!  My rage aflut.

The hours hat swung by where I’th stood.

The sun witnessed my luck kurplut.

My vest present in front not back,

While tiny were the buttons black.

My clands unclipped from clippers clunk,

My hair untrimmed from broken frunk.

Then GwinGock’s bird of Jubjub rare,

Did frumpick at my scildy hair.

And BlugBlod’s beamish Bandersnatch

Came leashless out; tabbed on my sgatch.

I trulluf through the tumtum land,

awaiting soon a tempt so grand.

And resting by a tumtum tree,

a chance to blow my frum with glee.

Fhwap!

Now snicker-snacked has been my head.

So sadly this, and now I’m dead.

Fhwompf.

In Memory of Sir Jabber A. Wockington

He was married and 42.

‘Twas dwinkly whilst the tunklies old

Did slobre through the TumTum sky;

All stundrid were the smuppy brood,

And no tove and mome would ask why.