Brilig
eram,
daebuh
tofo
slaithee
ga
Aikeed
ee’gimbel’awyaa
waeb
Mimzee
khogra
eram
barogofo
ga
Daebuh
momraalth
autgraeb.
|
It was the Time of Choosing, and the slithery
Horn-Badgers, Spun and bored into the wet hill.
All of the Average Folk were wishy-washy,
As were the bloviations of The Man.
|
A’khlat aachaabuhrwak, oolshawkhesing
Naashkas ai’meeth, slaashkas ai’greeth,
A’khlat aadar feloogee, a’maubrooding
Peroonoo draugekae ga, ai’thleeth!
|
Beware the BigBad Boss, O Son of the Founder,
Jaws that bite, claws that grab,
Beware the raucous mob, and cast out
Those bitterly-angry wheezing minions
|
Fo egreeth iskeethee staizakhee fol
Raitlest’oodraet fo eegraukhing raigraw
Fo aidoogren’eedauthlishi awchee ilnateelee
Daeb’uhfloothlaakhtung aw tlau baw.
|
They grasped their vorpal swords
For a long time they sought the wicked enemy
They jokes with the crowd of giggling idiots
And disguised themselves in good thoughts.
|
Tootlend’uhfloothlaakhtung f’aw etsheloog uhfee
Chaabuhrwak ga chee loo ai aekhlaat
Eesed uhwifling aataw aasawnith taageezee
Uhbuhrbuhl otlai onathal bashen aat’
|
While hid as oafish travelers
The Enemy with eyes that burn
Came whiffling through the urban forest
Subjugating all as it came through.
|
Wen raich! Wen raich! Aataw, aataw!
Zekat staizakhee ga izaung!
Fo aazak aebashen, shenga chee floothlaakh basheln
Fo aamauplet otlai uhlzebir aitaung.
|
One two! One two! Through, through!
The deadly blades whooshed!
They killed it, and then with its head
They returned to camp, triumphant.
|
Hlai aazak sloo aachaabuhrwak ga?
Sloo’shleskazaetae faanseelh, otnadelthing zaneepdae!
O, haudrith plinthlae, kaaloo, kalae!
Fosh oohawtkeg otlai plinthlae.
|
Have ye slain your Arch-Enemy?
You artful weapons, you clever caravan!
Oh, joyful time, ye chivalrous and personable heroes!
He chortled joyfully.
|
Brilig
eram,
daebuh
tofo
slaithee
ga
Aikeed
ee’gimbel’awyaa
waeb
Mimzee
khogra
eram
barogofo
ga
Daebuh
momraalth
autgraeb.
|
It was the Time of Choosing, and the slithery
Horn-Badgers, Spun and bored into the wet hill.
All of the Average Folk were wishy-washy,
As were the bloviations of The Man.
|