Disguised by all of these righteously wonderful happenings he shall sip and ponder his very own great beginnings

Has been inundatedly, matter of fact stately in his mammoth reasonings for passionate travel

And they cannot say fairer than that
Because he is the one with rip worn attired everything, ragtag clothing settled ghostly amidst a roving utensil, pen-soil ink spill

A penny to ten for these people’s transatlantic thoughts, they really ought to transpire to portray to the whole wide neighbourified world his absurdly exact ability

To garner terrific respect mirrored back upon himself, soon as it all made perfectly muddle-some sense again

Pen, ink, soul refill… And spill