Above the Bombom Trees

As pious as He stood, the flumtious stew He stirred,
His frivolous ways had not gone unnoticed,
and the Plumtoon would not hear His word,

Such sweet bolly led His actions
Such repressed foap displayed His fate
‘Twas without remorse and without reactions,
The Plumtoon set the poor man straight.

Above the Bombom trees He rose,
higher and higher to the clouded paloaf
And who was it, do you suppose,
that broke the fall of the misguided oaf?

‘Twas the last of the tortuskens,
mighty and innocent they rumped
There he had been, tending his flumpkens,
when gravity, upon the tortusken, it dumped

The man, dazed and beswathed,
arose from his ruxious mistake,
only to meet the other beasts' gaze
Said the man, “‘Tis an accident I make!”

The animals stirred and pondered,
not a one willing to take this juft
Then, from the shadows, he wandered
a small, little rabbit, shy and aluft.

The small creature with molley eyes,
arose and squeaked:
“First we rape Him, then he dies!”