A chnott lay in the shearthenware upon the riverbed,
Eating up the fugebrumbs, and probing for his stead.
When upon a sarborant, he happened just to spy
Watchecating silver specks, and not yet gone to die.
“Halloo!” He called with all galand (his kindly voice did squee)
The sarborant just nodded once, with crubbled industry.
“What do you say, dear friendly ‘rant, what misharcheaks have you?”
-Our chnott is nice beyond rebuke, mountanic in his hue-
To which, the sarborant responded, watchecating still
“Inhavictius embergathes and logus emberspill.”
And with that wisdom simply spoke, the sarborant evailed
Leaving sprity slyler specks upon the ground regaled.
A dark night crept in latternish, the riverbed so small
The chnott galand with fugebrumbs, silver specks and all.
NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 16