Whumplethump goes Missing (Part One)
I think I've lost poor Whumplethump
I had him yesterday,
I put him in the garden
And left him there to play.
But when I went to look for him
He's nowhere to be found,
It could be that he's hiding
So I'll have a look around.
I'll search the shed and flowerbed
And look beneath the hedge,
Investigate below the gate
Then check the window ledge.
I'll look around the apple tree
And under that old log,
If I still can't find him
I'll check inside the dog!
I don't think Jake could swallow him
A Whumplethump's too big,
But on the other hand, of course
That dog's a real pig!
I've known him eat a Whigglewoggle
Whole, with just one bite,
And watched him hunt for Whumplethumps
On cold and moonlit nights.
I do not think he'd catch one
They're very clever things,
They're short and fat with corkscrew legs
And little leather wings.
Their heads are flat, with purple eyes
Their hair, two shades of green,
Their ears can travel up and down
Which makes their hearing keen.
They feast on creepy crawlies
That they find upon the lawn,
They get up very early
To hunt for slugs at dawn.
But most of all they love cream cakes
And currant buns, as well,
The problem is that mixing them
Creates a dreadful smell.
Then you can sense them coming
Even though they're out of sight,
Coz the blue fog they've created
Can block out the strongest light.
So what I'll do is get some cakes
And place them on the lawn,
Then hide among the bushes
Waiting patiently till dawn.
_ _ _ _ _ _ To be continued
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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