The Babs Of Koth Poem by Damian Cranney

The Babs Of Koth

Do not go down to the Bullymoth,
Were the Dammberat is King,
For he cares not for us Babs of Koth,
He will flabber you with his baddering,
And then bind you with gullottal string,


His power stems from the ring of Doom
Which he stole from the Goblin Lord,
It was forged on the mystic Hagar loom,
by the mighty Hobs of Mord,

I plead again with you my son,
Keep away from that hateful monarch,
Leave behind your sword of megatron,
And go not into the woods of dark,

No one has returned from out that place,
Where the Jamberdrag destroys without trace,
And roars till the very earth does shake,
And then flies off to his Sylvan lake.
I plead again, do not, do not, do not,
Go down to the Bullymoth.

I take your point his son replied,
But where would that leave me in my pride,
How could I hold my head up high,
If all the girls of Koth, would sigh,
Unable to look me in the eye.

His father sighed and shook his head,
And his son picked up his sword,
He marched off to the woods of Dark,
And down to the Bullymoth,
He's not been heard or seen of since,
Perhaps he lives or perhaps he's dead,
But no more Babs of Koth,
Go down to the Bullymoth.



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Sunday, August 7, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: fantasy fiction
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