I am a wordsmith
Of glawest kind
My fribbling words
Incilidge most cantride

I zickle the yoast
And triplude in enfrose,
But my words of galution
Jiffer most of my prose.

Trole falough for the gudd
Albeit wickally so
Never mind that the gurdle
Sirth not with galowe

In the end, when knath choll
But my customers not
My frewegy sippen
Go zash to the frott