There is a fardle in her face
With marly pones all ghoralee.
No poley welans singing grace
Would overglee her werrings. She
Has many groles who gad about
And "Fardle Aah!" is all their shout.
The fardle daily waxes great,
Bejumes the uppallicious throng
Who goorbal as they speculate -
"Will she sperang? if so, how long?"
But groles pursue her in and out
And "Fardle Ohh!" is all their shout.
So wretched is her daily round
Of pardelay and pardeloh.
Bespeckled gamberlings abound,
Intent on fardelising, though
The groles shall take her, never doubt
And "Fardle Ooo!" is all their shout.
