This is a nonsense poem I wrote years ago.
It's all about the fun and silliness with this one.
Allow me to introduce...
In the deep, dark water,
down among the smugglewumps and the flartlebugs,
the fooblefrees and the targlebumbles,
the lannelcocks and the buntymunties,
lived the flumblebumpkin.
Floppy of tongue, bulbous of eye,
it lurks among the sludgy slime and odious ooze.
Brown are its teeth, ghastly green its belly,
(and what a belly it is, round and full).
Seven flabby legs of yucky yellow complete the awful picture.
'Tis a surly creature, is the flumblebumpkin.
Loathsome and botherful.
It whines and it moans,
It curses and it jibes,
and is generally an unpleasant chap all round!
Perhaps it has issues, some kind of problem with its mother.
Or maybe it's insecure, mocked by its peers!
Is it just fearful, afraid of the dark?
Or is it frustrated, dissatisifed with its life,
Career choices being somewhat limited?
Who can say what passes through the flumblebumpkin's mind,
For there are few psychoanalysts in ponds.
So alas, its problems must go undiagnosed,
And it must deal with its issues alone.
And perhaps think about getting a makeover.
So maybe best we leave it well alone,
Among the grasping weeds and stinking mud,
Where even the garglewarts won't go alone.
It's happier there, undisturbed.
Well, as happy as a flumblebumpkin can be.