Quite all forlorn sat Wilmot Crabs,
His tash all thorny threadbare,
‘The older that I grow each day,
The less I seem to care.'
Said Wilmot Crabs upon a while,
‘I have no time for chatter.'
Then wandered to a gaping womb
And thought upon the matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem