"My belief in my Awl..." My Mistrusted Menagerie: A Nonsense in Meters and Dubious Rhymes

Faith in my Awl remains awlfully smawl.
What I know of my Brylle is, essentially, nylle.
Apropos my Clampoo, I possess not a cloo.
R&D on my Droone? Discontinued last Joone.
As concerning my Erd I've heard nary a werd.
Tests performed on my Flopt? Ex officio stopt.
Should I shelter a Glannz? Though I could, I've no plannz.
Once endangered, my Hyst now’s been scratched from that lyst.
My poor Ilk lost its hair. (Truth be known, I don't cair.)
I once pooh-pooh’d my Jeng. Then the Fat Lady seng.
My poor Kloyl died of AIDS: we were playing charaids.
How my Lhugee makes do? It ingests its own po.
Asked to care for a Mhanx, I said, “Thanx but no thanx.”
So: how cool is my Nyuk? One part goose, two parts dyuk.
Some might visit my Ohng, but they don’t tarry lhong.
Time reported my Phryfe lives in fear for its lyfe.
Have you seen my Qabazz? Fret not: nobody hazz.
All those blogs re my Rolld? Evidently on holld.
The whole life of my Schtakt fills just one tiny trakt.
What’s the knack of my Tyghte? Just to hide in plain syghte.
Ugh! The last living Uew died in tuew thousand tuew..
Yes, my Vardavalette's an impossible pette.
All my Wargs went extinct. (To the auk they’ve been linct.)
No, my Xanthano can't catch the Gingerbread Mant.
First, my Yergaroo pair mated. Now they’re not thair.
I know that my Zuzzent would love to…but duzzen’t.