Swimming, gliding,
The great Banthiline
The river of sweeshi.
The river of thyne.

The sleeters, fleeters,
As they flittered and flied,
The river they grabe
And slimmered and spryed.

The bendy wined
And the Banthi sreeled,
The sleeters and fleeters
Creeled and squealed.

Sweet Banthiline rose
Up high in a rage
Those fleeters, those sleeters,
Before her would crage.

Her shadow was dark,
Her ripples were large,
She roared in a frazer,
Shrill as a tharge.

The sleeters
The fleeters
All gliped away quick.

The thine of the river
The sweeshi
Sweet Benthi
Leapt faster, and faster.

Soon Benthi, sweet Benthi,
Was stormy and black,
And all of the glipers
Were slyped in and thrashed.

Benthi once more
Resumed her repose
Her river of sunshine,
A river of rose.

Content and befraggled,
She again glid and slipped,
Through mountains and valleys
Safely and swift.