I wrote the majority of this years ago. It's increasingly nonsensical. Enjoy.
Upon a time, too long ago,
Lived one gwux man, named Freegoy Flo.
A mencil man, he prethied much
And caused the gods to fight, as such:
Zeus would steal all Hanwop’s sheep
And Gertha branged on Dempla’s yeep
And as they fought and shagramed whex
The people were in truth, perplexx.
Frency dwith the mangled yore
Until all sport became a boar.
Down and up, the fyzer flew,
Flue straight fast and tarried too.
The shadows lengthened, tumult rose
And with each dweth, the hums suppose.
Unite all though had conquered grim,
Standfast markwash kickle sim.
With vorpal sword, volumptious might,
He killed the antwang bwilf its fright.
Longtime he crazelled in the grane,
Longtime the sound rang tru agane.
And with each frethsome step he welched,
He swallowed, gulped, and blightly belched.
With trinian blood upon his coat,
He ended thus his merthvan zoat.
And tho the zote had ended thus,
The teedle cream takes crove a fuss.
Tay wocked a run, umbril a zoo
Of angel's rays, congruence too.
Naver rocking, alway bold
Of ancient reins, of millow's gold.
Bringlee zightly, borth ungrave.
Hadle cramecay, chuters trave.