Miss Celia Leblanc’s whirlwind ride to the Humber

The JS Witness protection program was in the badlands cutting lumber
and Miss Celia Leblanc hated every bit especially in regions lumbar
but she couldn’t complain against bad luck. Really: up was her number.
One day, in the badlands woods, a wild turkey caused her truck to tumbler
and she slid crashing into a cliff frail and sandy but just as cumber
as any you could collide with. Time is long, out with only a sandwich of cucumber
and tree blubber to drink. The sun looked a delicate shade of wavy umber
when from out of the forest she heard a “Zonk”. Was she dreaming in slumber?
No. It was the hippogriff stridumphing along. Shocked he shouted “St. Columba!
Is this the Leblanc who clonked me just days ago? Zonk! Or do you outnumber
us all with identical twinning?” “No. That was me. So sorry to encumber
your life once again.” “Zonk. I be no lubber or grubber or Leblanc snubber!
Fate has rolled her dice and cast us in a crazy coed, unspecific clubber.”
Celia’s brow knotted but she was interrupted. “Nay. Don’t be a quiet disturber,
Tis kismet; it’s predestined. We must not tarry to marry, you cute landlubber!”
And they did and I witnessed and they honeymooned in the estuary at Humber
where the Ouse and Trent meet for there is a castle to go plonk in! It’s rubber.