Poem: ‘The Snufferjog’

The Snufferjog

He’s runty, and his naked toes
Stumble but not to assuage;
Bewhiskered are his mouth and nose,
And moths doth he engage.
Beware the Snufferjog, my friend!
His Vogue stained claws they steal!
Do not his deep pockéts attend ,
They’re full of spoons unreal!
He’ll place your brain in his left hand,
Massage it, ’til it’s vanished —
Tall wolfish beings there he hath banned,
Warm crisp-grease too is banished.
Carnivorously adamant,
And Snuff’jog’s cocksure eyes,
Say “pint-sized ale cups should be scant,
In any a maiden’s thighs.”
“Beware! Beware! That lady there!
She may not smoke death-duty!”
His reasons aren’t in terms of care,
“But for the sake of beauty.”
“How didst thou slay the Snufferjog?
With one cruél strong sting!?”
I grabbed his wide-eyed, lamb-like dog,
It’s neck I then did wring.
The Snufferjog did die a death,
With which I daren’t agree,
His spirit shrank and turned to breath,
He’s now like you and me.

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