I long to wangle wonga for a dongle;
I can't hang on any longer unattached.
Don't get me wrong, a struggle, long and strong'll
Mingle with my wrangle to be hatched.
A dongle, that new-fangled status symbol,
Is what I plan to wrangle from that man.
I'll plan to keen my wrangle angle simple
So nothing wrong'll tangle with my plan.
A simple sample, not a mad fandango -
A tangled plan'll channel wonga wrong -
I'll strangle dangling thoughts to make the man go
And hand me wonga wrongly all along:
Well-wrangled plans'll mingle single-handed
With ample angles in tangled jungles of my plot
So jingle-jangle wonga can be grandly landed
To grant my planned demands upon the spot.
And when my strongly wangled wonga all assembles
I'll simply wander single-handed to the till,
Hand all wrangled wonga, in a hand that trembles
To the man who'll hand me a dongle, and the bill
Which I'll settle with the wangled dongle-wonga
And I'll amble with my new-fangled dongle home.
Since you can't handle this strangled, jumbled angle any longer,
I'll leave your scrambled, mangled, jangling minds alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My bongle has been wongfully dongled by yer twusted pont deu vous Therefore I moove alongongle nu-fongled knot no-ing what 2 due Fantastic write! ! ! ! !