THE FLUPPERKINS OF WIMBLY LIGHT

[Cleaning out an old valise, I rediscovered, in a nest of stale almonds, this long-forgotten odd poem for children. I don’t remember what a Flupperkin is, exactly. I’ll have to think about that.]

 

The Flupperkins of Wimbly Light,

they’re not quite wrong –

but they’re not quite right.

All night they sing “The Happy Song,”

as they flupper along on fluffy feet:

 

“The moon is high, the cake is sweet!”

“Oh, let us wander down the street!”

 

“If we trip, we’ll spill our tea.”

“But if we don’t, then you and me – ”

 

“Can both go splashing in the sea!”

“Take my hand, or – ”

 

“Take my nose – ”

“Just takes it everywhere you goes!”

 

“Tie a pink string ’round your head – ”

“So it doesn’t float away.”

 

“Oh what a flumpy, fimbly, wimbly – ”

“Fluppery summer’s day!”

 

“Except it’s night.”

“Oh – right!”

 

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