“Seething”, said a Saying Thing, “keeps Thobs breathing.”
A Thob’ll lob a boomin’ doomer;
the stickory of the hickory, and that’s a bat, that.
Thobs flay a day wailingly unfailingly.
These acts are facts in flix and fax.
A shown known.
Thobs throb in seethin’-breathin’,
hmmm, a cheese-wheeze:
“Bottle a lottle profit, Prophet.”, said CapiTroll.
“Hell Sells. Make a mint. Go to print.”, EdiThor yells.
No budget will nudge it.
Thobs blather when they gather,
reapin’ the keepin’ of rote in the vote.
Some come to the Tell Ya Regalia to sell ya
a Rightly hat, a Rightly hat is adequate to salute repute.
Will we surmise the Next Exercise? Asia Multi-Phasia?
“So,” said a Saying Thing, “Can’t you see I hear in the ear? A Thob’s talkin’ so I’m walkin’.”