The Secret Life of Words

Driding down the breathen brackdrop
I spried a rawd and troolin fourstruck
Capreening as it slashed, streeching astrop
Greels a squeaming, twas a gremto horrituc.

And lo trayond my skildest weems
The bewizened droctor cralked attile
For what might have bud unblightly teems
Allowed him a noosed mirabound smile.

So reflaunting did I in sight of this plene
Gotinking did I am sodam diglessed
There for the glabest modorn be seen
Remining in trensient cabluent ressed.

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