He bristled through the tulgey wood!

Oh clam caray!

  He delft his murgatroyd in simpatico

   Balanski! Say what!

  Oh say do I see?

    No not so clear!

 This bristling fire

   At my feet

I feel

No heat!

   But the heart it pleads

Get the flying dolphins 

   With eyes of kaleidoscope 

But they were busy 

With a cold pint at the pub

  Who's that?