I've been bamboozled, been persnickety, traveled lickety-split
And now I think of words like these and wonder if they fit
Into our modern language. Or are they too old school?
Perhaps the Tom of foolery is me, or just a fool?
If I should miss the thingamabob and thingamajig as well
Am I within the, often told, hand-basket bent for hell?
Perhaps I'm far too pixilated
And need to be insatiated.
The scallywag within me knows my britches are too big
Yet I continue looking for each gizmo, poke and pig.
Although this poem is trivial,
It's meant to be convivial.
I love the words of yesteryear that I knew as a child
I still beseech to be besotted, bolloxed and beguiled.
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