From The Trolliad,
(Fytte the Secounde) by Caradog le Doux

The Questor hath stepped ashore on the fabled Isle of Trolls

...No sooner was my advent conned
than there arose a tout-le-monde —
engulfing cloud of gibberish,
a wracking-wailing —
sense-assailing
storm of words, all liverish!

Those trolls leapt forth with mad intent
and breath quite problematic;
they yodelled high, they gargled loud,
in terms less than grammatic:

gross similes, barbaric tones,
sounds far from complimentary,
disturbing phonemes, oafish verbs,
outbursts unparliamentary,

inflections rough and idioms gruff,
phraseology not gracious,
delivered in a style of speech
somewhat over-vivacious;

with labio-dental fricatives,
voiced and unvoiced, and glottal
stops, and plosives guttural,
bilabial trills, and splutter - all
made me fair lose my bottle.

Paralinguistic features, too:
arched eyebrows and ears cocked askew,
farts, vigorous chest-thumping,
armpit-self-sniffing, drum-tattoos,
frenetic rap-tap-tapping shoes,
St Vitus' Dance, leg-humping,
rolled eyes and wild fist-pumping -

till, "Heaven forffend!" I cried, "Ffair do's!"...

Paul Stevens

If you have any comments on this poem, Paul Stevens would be pleased to hear from you.