In the forest late one summer day, between the trees and prams, a sweet girl whistled a small tune that made the rabbits dance.
They danced and hopped and frinked about and it was all quite nice until the Wankerschmacken came and brought a plague of Braifs.
The Braifs, they danced and frinked as well and grew and grew in size until they grew to twelve feet tall much to the girl’s surprise.
The Wankerschmacken watched with glee, with joyous hate and hunger, the rabbits, the girl, they were confused as they stared down the Schmacken’s flanger. The flanger was his mouth, of course, filled with teeth like daggers, and the beast lunged after the poor girl who through the forest yaggered.
She yaggered and ran and over a root she suddenly fell and cried; The Wankerschmacken took his chance and this is how she died:
The monster opened its flanger large, its throat was charcoal black; A blue tongue stretched and grabbed the girl and hurled her into its depths.
She fell for an eternity, she seemed to fall for years; And in its stomach she cried and cried and drowned in her own tears.
A century has come and gone since this cold-blooded **** but if you put your ear to the woods you can hear the Schmacken still.
It snores and roars deep in its sleep; Can you smell its rotten breath? but once you do it is too late –
You will die a vicious death.
A nonsense ballad heavily inspired by Carroll's "Jabberwocky", one of my all-time favorite poems.