The Trollimoste- Gumbell dids’t lumberode forth
To espy, whereupon he coulds’t fathom.
He perused a course of Westerly-North
’til he chanced on the Uppermost Lathom.
“Oh dearest Lathom“, the Trollimoste said,
Pray what is the secret of greatness…?
And the Lathom replied –
In the Trollimoste’s head –
“Sliced bread, and a penchant for lateness“.
The Trollimoste-Gumbell dids’t whiffle away
With a dose of Great-Ego-Inflatus,
And he said to himself
“Therefore, to be great
I’ll eat bread and be known for me lateness“.
Several years passed –
Neither slowly nor fast,
And the Trollimoste kept to his vigil.
But no greatness became,
Nor fortune, nor fame,
Though he dids’t meets a Trollimoste-Girgil.
So once more our drear Trollimoste lumberade forth –
Great riddle forto unrathom,
He perused that old course –
One of Westerly-North
’til he chanced upon said Lathom.
“Oh dearest Lathom“, the Trollimoste sighed,
“Pray, why’m I not great, just like you…?”
And the Lathom replied
“That’s b’cause I lied,
But you took silly words at face value“.
And the moral to this sordiest tale…?
Don’t be like the Trollimoste-Gumbell.
When conversing whith Lathoms
– By word OR by tail –
Don’t try to be great