’Twas brilling and the slithy toves
Were Gerrymandered in their nests.
All guarded by their campaign troves,
Their precious perks the best.
“Beware the Donaldwock, my son!
The words that bite, the hands that grip!
Beware the Bannonbird, and shun
The frumious one-term trip!”
He took his legal sword in hand;
Long time the wily foe he sought,
Muellering: “…to take a stand?”
He stood a while in thought.
And as in iffish thought he stood
The Donaldwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the Sessioned wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! Subpoenas left and right
The thrusting blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He came galumphing back.
“And has thou slain the Donaldwock?
Come to my arms my beamish boy!
Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brilling and the slithy toves,
Safely back inside their nests,
Penced against more reckless moves,
They had survived the test.
Vance Weaver 