Hop forth and heed
The hand that thro' adverts
Drools swappy goggle mead!
There in town, do you see
Is maiden Yoloyilinka, the fair!
Ere year's end all men be
Approaching yon maiden, all dare
To be the great marsipan line
The stuckled pig of the kingly yielding
The sweet centre, the celebrity swine
By godly foot kicked out and fielding . . .
Oh, stars, by what right dost thou duplicate?
Sky mirror, Live Journal, thou art bulky!
Thy belly 'tis Mr. Creosote popping with multi-Kate
Thousands of the famous shrew, promiscuous and sulky!
Oh, but Yoloyilinka, what of she?
Where is hapless, lovely maiden found to-day?
Buried under monograph and ego fee!
Parking under garage bottom floor for what she weigh
A thousand tons be the shackles of innocence!
Sweet sounding heartlessness sought in the arena!
Emperor Kid dons robes of fat and petulence!
And then he drops over yon pretty e-ballerina!
So Yoloyilinka languishes hot under her own lamp
While the sea coats her--ensuring all shall always be damp!