All Hail the Pandersquat
Along the grundle vodamen slither,
sprickety sprocks shroud ‘neath the gobblespot
and hippity hocks flee the pandersquat
passing ghastly as the hoopsnot wither.
Rising snuffle thumps have drawn him hither
to hoop, holler and blither garblesnot.
His bangles and boogles dangle goldrot,
drop the yorsier folk in a dither.
But one spartled sprocklet towers and truths:
“Mister pandersquat,” she upstarts, “your aur
snuffles the vermest. Scour that squawker.”
“What gespittle and guspah,” he retooths.
With crowdly hurrah the vodaman corps
sprangle the spree sprocklet off to slaughter.
©2017 Kenneth W. Arthur