Third-Worst Poetry in the Galaxy

O freddled gruntbuggly

Thy micturations are to me

As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee

That mordiously hath bitled out its earted jurtles

Into a rancid festering...

Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustules

Are splurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts

And living glupules frat and slipulate

Like jowling meated liverslime

Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes

And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles

Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't.