POETRY, PROSE AND PAINTINGS

 

 

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     THE GOBLIN'S HOLIDAY.          

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He's been packing for weeks,

his nastiest spells,

his bag full of wasps,

his tin of bad smells,

his up the creek road map

and wrong time tables,

his stickiest toffee

and wrong address labels.

 

And he hasn't forgotten

the well to do folk

who jet off to Paris

with luggage he broke.

Nor the nice little lady,

who saves all the year

for her two weeks in Bangor,

the weather is drear.

 

There's a tooth ache for Billy,

a head ache for Pat

and a smashing big wind

for Grandma's new hat.

There's some boredom for Lucy,

big fat spiders for mum,

and a lovely flat battery.

Holidays are such fun!