OneFiercePuppy: That moves a man to emotion, it does. Why, I feel a poetic spirit descend upon me.
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
Hmm, you were doing so well up to that point.
OneFiercePuppy: That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer.
But then, what on Earth (or Vogsphere) is this? Granted, I know things have been changed every time the story has changed media, but the rest of that poem as I know it goes:
Groop, I implore thee,
my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindewurdles,
or I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon.
SEE IF I DON'T!
That's from the book, by the way. Where is your version from?