When Bibble he would a bounding swim

Boundless glore upon his fizzog

Splashed he breastie ways and overlimb

Swimming swifty like a croc log

Quiet stealth he’d swimmy creep

Both overland and overseas

Until upon toasted stooks he’d leap

Climbed the highest Groolam trees

Came then Krabb and turning Turtle

Came then coughing Doobah birds

Nurbling yams and wee ferky Furtles

All whiddling cheese from Beezie curds

Neth the dust spins the bite and nippy

Brazen brassy and frothing spitties

All parlour web and sticky drippy

Midst spiralling lift and chimney titties

Free frying flowering Frootie fish

All beachy brine in their weather coats

From beneath the sea in a big tin dish

Despite the Flishmac’s rowing boats

King Neptune was filling his boots

The cold North wind against his face

While two barn owls exchanged shrill hoots

Singing ‘Amazing Grace’

They both suffered badly from the bends

And although it was a one horse race

This is where my wee story ends