Wonga Wangling For A Dongle Poem by C Richard Miles

I long to wangle wonga for a dongle;
I can't hang on any longer unattached.
Don't get me wrong, a struggle, long and strong'll
Mingle with my wrangle to be hatched.
A dongle, that new-fangled status symbol,
Is what I plan to wrangle from that man.
I'll plan to keen my wrangle angle simple
So nothing wrong'll tangle with my plan.
A simple sample, not a mad fandango -
A tangled plan'll channel wonga wrong -
I'll strangle dangling thoughts to make the man go
And hand me wonga wrongly all along:
Well-wrangled plans'll mingle single-handed
With ample angles in tangled jungles of my plot
So jingle-jangle wonga can be grandly landed
To grant my planned demands upon the spot.
And when my strongly wangled wonga all assembles
I'll simply wander single-handed to the till,
Hand all wrangled wonga, in a hand that trembles
To the man who'll hand me a dongle, and the bill
Which I'll settle with the wangled dongle-wonga
And I'll amble with my new-fangled dongle home.
Since you can't handle this strangled, jumbled angle any longer,
I'll leave your scrambled, mangled, jangling minds alone.