I must get down town
Get my teeth sharpened
To give a nastier bite
Yes a bite to remember
That my victims will not
Oh ! how nice to bite
An evil dream come true
My claws to be done too
Making a loud clash of course
If not , I'll be empty of my music

I have to keep an eye out
For him with the Vorpal sword
I believe , he's my mortal foe
Resting by the Tum Tum Tree
Awaiting to cut me down

I Jaberwocky , with eyes aflame
Like to whiffle along
Through the beautiful Tulgey wood
Bubbling in tune as I happily go
Sensing danger near at hand
Swish , swish , swish went his sword
Sway , sway , sway went my body

But the devil, he ****** well is
Dug , dug , dug, deep inside of me
My green blood Spraying all around
He galloped of without a horse
With my head  held high aloft
But, so much little did he know
That, when night should verily fall
Cronjyceuse will set me right as might.

A dab of rhythm
and a splash of rhyme
over a stretched canvas
of childhood
bring to mind
daffodils on clouds
and tygers burning their way
through forests
while the dying jaberwocky smiles
through fearsome jaws
bemused by the man waving
too far from shore.

And to one side a walrus
unconsolably weeps
having consumed
one too many oysters
unwittingly adding
to the commercial value
of the sea shells on the sea shore.

In the corner
a patient spider
chats to a passing fly,
oblivious of the forecast
of torrential rain,
which proves resistant
to any admonishments
to go away until another day.

Down comes the rain
and a hoard of children
pile into an old shoe
ignorant
of the empty food cupboard
thanks to their gluttonous dog.

And surveying the whole scene
is a benevolent coal stained king
smoking through a managerie of a beard,
wondering where his second shoe has gone to...

I sigh, put the kettle on
and whitewash the whole canvas
to start afresh.