After E, the alphabet gets decidedly less friendly. Consonants come out of the fucking woodwork and you'd better hope you have more than a quarter tank left when you are cruising toward its buxom midsection.
F.
Rough Kerfuffle over a tufted truffle
Enough in the duffle for a fortnight's tussle;
Suss out the fluff before the five-card shuffle!
G.
"Grand Canyon," grinned the gray Cayman.
"A great gallumphing gorge, edged by stodgy green grass,
With ledges as high as the glassy night sky."
H.
Breathy whorls huffed by homestead ranch hands
While threading husks through stretchy, itch-proof conch strands
A shy, overshorn mensch to watch the ashy badlands.
Hellbent on flooding your basement marketplace with everything short of tyranny.
-- Severino the Younger
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