The Kipple Slee
"To see. To sea," the Kipple Slee cried
And scrimjammed his grapples to the oar.
As the snag'n was to the mizzenmast tied,
Forward did that sliffle ship soar,
O'er swells of slaf and winfuls of white
And the grees and sloes of that filfurmil sea,
Then the dimlark did the other ship sight
Graffling the snave as suffling as we.
"To the lee, the lee," the Kipple Slee cried
His jumpledom foppering in the wind.
"Or I'll sumple snafes to the lee," he defied,
"And race you till this writ doth end."
"Why, Kipple slee," said t'other, "Indeed!
Racing graffling ships of our sort
Would be slortful, it must be agreed
On a poem so awfully short."
Me - age 17
