The Back of Tuor's Head

Don't run this through your spel chucker. ;-)
01

I sat a gimering at the gorre,
My eyes gone slicky-slack.
The britheling was on the moor,
Blundering down his track.

My mind in aires a weatherbound,
Was floating in the breeze.
Contemplating the waethormore
Among the wafting trees.

For dithering, and ancestors bright
Floating down through time,
Did gribe and gimble through their days
Leaving this as mine.

Yet now I sit a giberring,
To ease my troubled mind,
Watching as the Fluxum come
Through the strands of time.

Hastily I bid retreat
To thoughts of younger days,
When jibly I would frolic
Through the poles and gabes.

And now I get up from my seat,
And now I walk away.
‘Tis quicker for the liend retreat
Than fighting for my days.

My memories come krokley back
And gibe among my mind,
I tell myself I am happy
In the future that I find.

But things distraught in kimble ways
Can not be quick’ly mend.
And I can see in drack visions
It may come to an end.

So come with me my bright appren,
‘Long path with wind and bend
Let us pick up our slithy duoves,
And make our ways a-mend.