Oh, crumbs, how they fiddle, the fleet and the slow,
The fine-feathered friend, and the fat-fingered foe,
How slowly meander and lingering go,
As the follow the flow to the bottom!

How curly the queues and how clumsy the climb,
From desperate winter to calmer kind clime,
From fungible fingers all frozen in time,
Warm wishes to any who've got 'em!

In lingering longing, how far the delight
Of fire and friendly sun's beaming in light!
How deep are the drifts, and how cold is the night!
How wicked the winter wind blowing!

Up once again, Mother, in morning renew
The muttering muck-monsters are not for you!
Mad mingling in mud for our Mom will not Do!
Most upply you now must be going!

And randomly Up you will rocket and roll,
And richly remember the rhymes of the soul
For life is a rollercoast, ratcheting whole,
And a daunting redeemable dangle!

Fill fairly and fully your heart from the fire,
For fun-filled forevers with fine friends conspire!
Freak not for the freezing, the old or retired!
For now you may freely newfangle!

Whimbert the Undongleable
Cornea-on-Hole-Wheat, 1321