[Pelham]

Oh freddled gruntbuggly,

Thy micturations are to me,

As plurdled gabbleblotchits,

On a lurgid bee,

That mordiously hath blurted out,

Its earted jurtles,

Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer [drowned out by moaning and screaming]

Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,

Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,

And living glupules frart and slipulate,

Like jowling meated liverslime,

Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turling dromes,

And hooptiously drangle me,

With crinkly bindlewurdles,

Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,

See if I don't.

[TigersEye]

Oh, that's just so hugh and series.
Did you really think you could make me feel any worse?