The Breaming Flug of Goustan

When the breaming flug of Goustan
appeared upon the bay, festooned
with burning corncob hands, and
leaning piles of hay, with knights
of purple peppercorns, and lips
of rose-fed coneys, cannons firing
weinerschniztel and enormous black
baloneys.

When the breaming flug of Goustan
pulled upto plumbersdock quay, there
was a hullaballoo of commotions, and
wigs of burning hay, there were
children torching buildings using
corncob hands aflame, there was a
bare-bottomed witcheress intoning
her own name:

And the purple peppercorn knights
looked gorgeous in the mist, the moon
shining down like a lamprey screaming
hiss, like a blanket of eels hovering
in the air, like a witcheress' ass
swinging, its anus-eye aglare.

See the Burghermeister
take a black baloney missile
to the head, three to the chest
and stomach, and then he lay
dead, the witcheress cackling
from her glowering head.

O Coneys!
Your breath as sweet
as roses, your hearts like
trembling notes,

grimy, angry, children
bubble from the motes that
surround the

breaming flug of Goustan.