Large an Oafish

What is she finding ere?
Who called a moronic by the tones a tomb here?
Last weekend I whooed you resisted me you sorely chides
 with your quells and prides
Your prized idiot be
So a rude
Wantonness crude
Clumsy and so filled up with egotic

Roll on a wave need you no more
And to the sea let it swallowed you
To the hell let it errodes you
As wayward child of the world do

I shoo you to the sun to burn you down
And to your onlookers you clown.