Sentence The Threehundredandeightyfourth 

He liked to do mental gymnastics,

As he sauntered along in the rain,

Moiling for words in his brain'

A jeremiad for the sane,

Like a gapeseed inhaling his pain,

And all of the time, his agile mind, performed it's linguistical tricks,

But kicking his way through the windrow,

A callow youth he espied,

Come out from the snuggery,

Ready for buggery,

“This needn't take long,” he cried!