March wull sarch, Eäpril wull try,
Mäy u'll tell if you'll live or die.
Buds a-break and milchi seeps
Heady in the meadows
Chalky children on the steep
Baskets full of shadows
Gapmouth spins a rattle song
Air's an upturned ocean
Swift's an axe hurled in the gloam
Splits the Riddle open
Now it looks it almost zounds
Wordle zircles wider
With the silence upside down
Horse atop the rider
Quaterevil takes a wife:
Chilver meets her maker
As the grindstone turns the knife
O'er Eleven Acres
Femboys in the forest find
Figs of foul freedom
Where the old you left behind
Valls through nether-Eden
Some must watch, while some must sleep
So runs the wordle's way;
A not-girl zweal-ed at the stake
A-births the end of May
