Scollops

O bring me my yesteryear's scollops
That preened in the caverns of old,
Caroused in such wonderful dollops
And squeaked in the eventide's gold!
For now all the crampons are dreaming,
And the wince of the weevil is nigh;
And Chaos bodes forth in the screaming
Of pondweed hurled down from on high!
We may be alone in our whacking
Of all that we walloped before;
Yet now that our pinwheels are slacking,
O bring me my scollops of yore!

Mutser Wuggley