Song of the Picker-pock

Out on a walk, a Picker-pock
Was searching high and low
For mischief he did alway seek
When out about he’d go.

This day was different; Picker-pock
Was extra vertenly;
And found he him some tricks to make
Right by the Fritten tree.

Without a thought, the vainly wot
Did snick around the tree
And find him there a gristled pear
He ‘ssumed was meant for he.

Alas, ’twas poisoned, and our Pock
Did choke upon its seeds
But spat in time for saving breaths
Among the groundly weeds.

And Picker-pock, no lesson learnt,
Went home that fruited day,
Back to his mischieved life he went,
Tho pears a’now gave away.

Sonnet 4


What if I were to steal you for a day?
I’d bring you off adventuring with me
We’d find some treasure; frightened, I would say,
‘What dark magicks await explorers we?’

What if we went advent’ring for a day?
You’d lead me down some gods-forsaken route
Finding some creature, I would, timid, say,
‘We ought turn back; I fear danger’s afoot!’

What if we went off-road one fateful day?
And finding some contraption, I began
To stammer uncontrollably, and say,
‘What devilry is this, I am but man!’

And you would turn and say to me, plainly:
‘You’re safe, my love, don’t fret; you are with me.’