I went to the wickersnacks one day,
'Round the corner, leagues away,
Over the hill on a road of tacks
Journeyed I to the wickersnacks.
Whatever I had quested for,
I now don't know, for through the door
I came upon a tribe of yofs,
All flobbing 'round with noisy coughs
And sambolating 'cross the 'snacks
And back again with throaty hacks,
Each more glotty than the last,
All through the wicker, wheel to mast.
The glotty yofs' great sambolation,
Festival and infestation,
Scared me so, I ran away;
I could snack on wicker some other day.

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Background:

One day in English 12, my favorite English teacher yet, Ms. Woolbright, assigned a grammar quiz using the sentence, "Flobbing sollably, glotty yofs sambolated in the wickersnacks." We had to figure out the parts of speech based on our knowledge of grammar alone and answer questions about the sentence even if we didn't know what yofs were, why they were so darn glotty, what they were doing in the wickersnacks to begin with, or whether the wickersnacks would ever recover from all that messy flobbing and sambolating. I had a free period afterward, and I had an attack of verse and went all Seussian on it. It's one of my more abstract works. When I said over the hill, I referred to the drive over highway 17 from Santa Cruz to San Jose and back, though it could mean any hill.