The Worker Poem by Ander Greigon

Seemingly I must admit,
This rhapsody upon a glimpse;
Thorough I must fully whip,
A note partaken an honest dice;

Lots and lots were furnished,
Whimping on a gladly tease;
His and her were all published,
Decides refined tuckered wease;

Alone I fill dash and glean,
The vast I keep locked and pleat;
The sow on my fiddled kin,
Results to my famished greet;

A toll and sweet tipped stum,
Alludes to thrill and the spin;
The long and stops interlum,
Define a please and again;

As people grows up and daunt,
The little oldeth you nick;
The simple as you would preat,
My long and done very quick.