The Grumbleruge

So be the ruffled grumbleruge

In my soup that day

I seering kepit beadle-bluge

As it garfled on its way

And when I spooned out all the beef

It soaked my bungle boo

The grumbleruge made spittle ief

For it was cheaply too

If I left, it sneefled glip

Because it’s cold at night

IF I stayed, I’d only sip

Because it’s willows pite

I know the weach and yava gott

Can’t be in gowing fap

But the grumbleruge made shrew the knot

It tumbled in my lap!

“Lutter yole!” I shrieked in shock

For whipple was quite neep

I skipped about the siva hock

To jabber kite and weep

So be the ruffled grumbleruge

My lap was teemly hot

I baking flapest cheery dead

And returned it to the pot.

©Jenni Davenport