Twas upon searching, that yet we remember:
Because 1942 will be etched in our minds forever;
But millions of years span, maybe something more resistant,
Our birth home is forever distant.
The "X consciousness" is something only we children can understand,
Euclidean, something we will never comprehend;
Be free, dearest parents, we are saved!
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Eternally two and seven-years-old,
Gharash, truoder, sestold!
Frush, Jabberwocky, we say to thee,
And yet we rest by the TumTum tree!
