Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

When folk had laughed at my foolish biz, My hashtagged life of toil it is, Different folkes diversely said, To corporate masters you must give headde. Because I am strongge of Insta’s craft, I built myself a stout big raft, With mightye pictures in my postes, That were mocked by fools as shallow boastes. For follows large I pined for longly, Bengal troll farmes replied Me strongly! Ten thousande likes sprung from that spring raine, Silver left my purse with muche greate paine. If you knoweth History then You’d Understandde, The fearsome logge I holde in my handde, Forget that Once Was I when I got Chickked Remember what I’ve done for Sportte, and Shitte. --- And thus concludes today's reading. For an elder prose version, read this .

Greetings, Gentle Reader: I have before me a poem that was recently discovered hidden in a wall, behind a broom closet, on the 4th floor attic of the Bilious Refectory of St Pythos The Charred, 2 Close Way, Bangers-On-Mash, Wankershire, England. All internal evidence points as with one eye that it was intended as work d'art, a carta de introduccione if you will, for the author to gain favor with an unspecified, but literate woman. Other works of this era refer to such-said women as "stackedde". The author is evidently familiar with more-than-basic Principia de Pharmacopia, and was competent with the use of the astrolabe and perhaps the Astroglydde. Gyrl, Youe Knowe Yts Trewe In thyss letterre, unadorned bye circumflexxe, Moated by serfe, andde i mperis rex , By guttering light I penne thyss screed, Cribbyng fromm the werkes of Venerable Bede. Your profyle immaculata [verso/recto]—to boote, At the shore, I'm seated, imitating Kanutte, Attempting to conj...