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Who is this beamish boy whom we have to thank for the frabjous day
When the Jabberwock did meet its end. He gallumping back to "Callooh! Callay!"
The boy whom slayed the fearsome word was sure to be birthed by Time
And Nature would naturally be the mother of all worldly design
Though you could say his father was with him, he hid in the kitchen with his mother by the stove
He was conquering the monsters created within him by Time, mimsy as the borogove
The vorpal sword bestowed to him and tied to Grandeur's tethers
Shone like a mirror allowing him to see clearly to straighten his feathers
And so wandered he amongst the grath, himself feeling a bit mome
Knowing that without his head Time would never allow him home
That was why the Jabberwock, as his eyes shone red
Rather than filling our blue boy with terrible dread
Was lead to swing with a snicker-snack
The count ran short though his head rolled back
Then those uffish thoughts could reside
In a large and depleted place to hide
The skull of the Jabberwock surely would do
But Time would call for the Bandersnatch and Jub- Jub bird too
But those will be stories for a different time
As we walk through the forest of fig trees and lime
Rick with the two one eyed dogs named Sirius
And we write down the new story for our dear fresh Prince Tyrius