Gibberish

Note: Sometimes, to kill time, I write whatever comes to my mind—pure jabberwocky. What follows is the product of nonsense thoughts. It almost killed me when I read it. Proceed with caution.


A man adjusted his bow,
Trying to shoot a crow.
The crow scooted away—the man was sad,
But the crow? The crow was very glad.


Storming out, he shouted with rage
At a lonely old sage on the hill's edge.
"Today is not your day," the sage declared.
"Come, let's pray." The man just stared.


The angry man was in despair.
"Life is not fair!" he cried through air.
"I have to feed my wife, you see,
And she will chop me up for tea."



The gentle sage gave a sudden smile,
Paused and thought for a little while.
"To feed your wife, you need not kill—
Just send her up to me on the hill."



The surprised man screamed right in his face
(There was barely any space between the place).
"You dirty oaf! You clueless clown!
That crow's my wife's favorite loaf in town!"