I strolled among lavendills in the pithy piney plodding hills bearing the brunt of burdensome ******* as I garnished grins of whippoorwills.
On a plateau-ish plain of prickly peet I felt the bog beneath my feet tickling my toes with ****** tainted thorns, I remembered gnarling days, and stood forlorn.
Pickled poesy pomagroups foretold of future ladle scoops in caligrating loop the loops in styles reminding me of marching troops.
In shifting shylock shapes of time with ripping radishes of rhyme I began my daring dew descent to the lowly muppet mugging climes.
When, on sordid stony steppes I stood, amid the brash and boorish wood, wenting where I was, I brought a hinting hackle pang of good.