I screwed it on and it went right up the bank.
Hey! Said Crankden Cramden, was that mink named Hank?
The one who lost his head and needed a new one? I asked.
I think so said Bogland Bagomire, as he baited and basked.
I am irritated when strangers get in on my conversation of course.
So I gave him the bug eye, and got back up on my horse.
That is cheap cheese you are using for bait, Betty Beatercheese said.
I gave her the fisherman eye that said clearly “you’re dead”.
As if by magic Shabolina Pilford suddenly appeared in Rockah.
She said “tighten up the chain and wheelie for a block’ah!”
The self appointed experts began giving Shabolina weird advice.
You can’t ram the car son! A voice yelled, and not very nice.
I’ll jerk the keys! The son yelled at his father, Crankden Cramden.
That’s when I smelled the odiferous cat box, put there by Jamden.
Fonkland O’giglocard yelled “I thought you were going home to me.
I decided to stay a bit longer and watch this crazy nightmare comedy.
If I sat within the downy heather of the beauteous bogland
That is Mnt Clanard
Southern Ireland
Beneath a birch ... beside a stream
And plucked
All whimsical like...
One impeccable example of fairy winged
Dandelion
And as it wove in the soft southerly breeze
I shared my breath
Just one breath
Just enough... to loosen its stability
And watched all engrossed, like
As it moved angelically
Passing the treacherous stream
As if my most desired dream
It flew
I wished it well
Saw it clambering thermals
Past brown birds and green green
Fields
What good would become of my wishing well
And effortless breath
Once it has left
Past my sight
Swooning flight of fancy
I decree in my minds eye
It will become
Another new born fairy....
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