by Leah Ellingsworth
The bad little twiggens they Flubber and crail
While bobbing and clobbing each other’s curvail
They pesterly poke till Moha is through
Her monstrous shrids teach what not to do
The twiggens they scurry with fright as they go
Cuz Moha is angry and might explode.
Her brobaly fire which gnarls her snurs
Her shrids are like daggers the twiggens are sure.
She yalls and grimbles she glumps with great force
till all the bad twiggens repent with remorse.
Then moha rears up with a shrigglng shmock
And gathers her twiggens at clock’s tick tock.
Tis time to slumber to curl at ones feet
While dreaming of treasure of mice and meeks.
The twiggens they pitten, they patten they po
For bad little twiggens are’gin on the go.