An Ode to Oobleck
Oobleck, my love, of the gooiest goo,
Thy affection, I trow, doth simmer and stew!
Is wrought into frenzy upon being boiled,
but starling, my Oobleck! For thee I have toiled!
Thy lumps are like mumps of the bumpiest kind,
and in poetry here, thy lumps are enshrined.
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