The Darquals

In days of disportion,
Of whice, whear and whin,
The slingering Darquals
Were mordish and thin.
They dined upon queever
And tarryboned quace,
And scranchles they caught
In a net made of lace.
They lived by the river
In moulthy dank holes,
Where rainwater dreeped
On their cadified souls,
And only when darkness
Had covered the land,
They snuffle and mulligrate
Up to the sand;
Coshent, yet trempted,
As Darquals must be,
By moonlight on water
And dreams of the sea.

Though living in darkness,
They still sought the light,
Ad info, ad expo,
With margeous delight.
They'd frockle and queezle,
There's some even say,
They've watched as they tripted
The fossian way.
Each mirthful and scramping
The blithe mellow miles,
With gandyfied woozers
And radiful smiles.
The moonlight their secret,
The starlight their guide,
No miggle too narrow,
No coggle too wide:
Simplicity welcomed
And lived with a will,
As schelsongs ascended
The hallibang hill.