the snarthling fentra

crept him out
one darkling day
when finnelling was quorn

and everything
was out of touch
and in a dundring scorn

saw he did
the novel flaw
'een when the the surge was torn

he kept his wits
until the daw
when all taboos are shorn

next he squove
to be enthralled
on such a quinsey morn

he proudly stood
and roared his blast
from his high and mighty horn

1975