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 Fall of Marduk Thunderfist

ATTENTION YE READERS!

This is a poem I wrote a long time ago. I have a lot of nonsense words, interpret those as you will. Thus I am classifying it as nonsense poetry. It is to be read in an Irish or Scottish accent for best results.

The Fall of Marduk Thunderfist

By JW Ball

In Frockentime my dear

They slordeled our flocks of rode

They reigned in torible sneer

And the moniring banks had flowed.

Vendar Frockenschlammer

That iron fist of woe

Didst Marduk of amour

In battle fight and so

The florting cries aloud,

"My love, hast thou been strowned?"

But yet in shatter found,

The body of a king.

As Marduk Thunderfist

In torible torror stood,

From whence, yea, from berist!

That flongen traitor would

End good Marduk's short life.

Cry, "Banter and abroad,

Our bloodish fields didst nod,"

For Marduk swornen fell.

Dead he bled on the bulgy green,

The battle brought him dead,

His body still unseen,

Nor yet his scarlet head.

And forthwith the tumneys

Crowed, "Crockle and a fell,"

Marduk was in the dell,

And smitten lay he there.

The Prossian armies won;

The Flangish tide was beat,

And the battle, it was done.

A shepherd's sheep did bleat,

And so Marduk was found:

"Thou didst with ardor fight;

Carry him home tonight."

And the cock didst woery gow-bray.

In Frockentime my dear

They slordeled our flocks of rode

They reigned in torible sneer

O'er Marduk's old abode.