Poetry Thursdays: When Yarbull Slew the Strock

Hello, welcome to Inkweb! Today I'll be posting some nonsense poetry. Expect the next cat monologue tomorrow, and a new short story hopefully on Saturday (if I can manage to stop procrastinating and write one). All right, here goes!

"When Yarbull Slew the Strock"

It was a while ago indeed,

When in the flangen fields of whivering slogg,

Our hero Yarbull ventured forth aneed;

He traveled far and wide to seek Caerbrogg,

Where legend says he did his fimious deed.

The local tales had spoken thus,

Of dragons and vecrones that come a-knock,

But of the fears that clouded Caerbrogg's dust,

There was one monster that they rued: the Strock,

A giant beast, of brooden bloodlust famed.

Yarbull had heard the tales of grim

Concerning darkish deeds of bloodish death;

He went into the caverns, nightly dim

And waited hours, hardly drawing breath;

He dared not make his dareful presence known.

A crumble and a crock aroar

And out it came with sneaking beastly guile:

The Strock, with erxen heads, all four.

Then Yarbull waited shadowed while

The burgous beast did pass him right on by.

Then leapt brave Yarbull out to slay

The woesome beast of bloodish claws,

He hacked it with his sword and heard it bay

Aloud in angrous fury pain; he saw

The creature down in darkened cavern lay.

The local tales had spoken thus,

Of dragons and vecrones that come a-knock,

But of the fears that clouded Caerbrogg's dust,

There was one fear they laid to rest: the Strock,

Slain by Yarbull Gildhart ever famed.

It was a while ago indeed,

When in the flangen fields of whivering slogg,

Our hero Yarbull ventured forth aneed;

He traveled far and wide to seek Caerbrogg,

Where it is known he did his fimious deed.