Valiant Vagrant, Willy Wart

                                       Valiant Vagrant, Willy Wart

( Author’s Note: Herewith be the fourth verse tale concerned with the previously unrecorded life of Willy Wart. The first three formed a trilogy, which is no longer valid, as there are now four of them. To read the first three in the right order is to begin with Willy Wart Wandered W Way, followed by The Earlier and Later Adventures of Willy Wart, to terminate with The Continuous and Further Wanderings of Willy Wart. You may, of course, prefer to read them in the wrong order, just one of them or none of them at all. Now they are no longer a trilogy, for with this added, there is a fourth, you do not need to read this one to understand the others or the others to understand this one. Indeed, you do not have to read any of them. It is up to you, as a canary may chirp clearly in a cage. )

Willy Wart set further furlongs, forked woody tree forests,
mounted rock stone mountains, forded wet water rivers.
Often wondered awakened why others, who were not him,
fellowship sought, happy alone naught,
he frankly fearsome in his own company caught,
pick bone on his lone fishy way to swim
with wild seeds sown, toenails blunted, yellowed, in grown.
Came upon banyan canyons, stuck sticks in bear dens,
picked poet pens, to write scribble,
scramble scram at right angle amble,
berry bunched from bright bramble,
fenced swords to self battle,
whittled wood shadow play puppet,
mock Medieval rattle,
clash cloud in thunder strike,
never was content to ride bike,
build sand castle from sand,
blow bugle brass band,
rather palace built of shark jowl,
filled with raucous wolf howl.
Farmer warned would be caught,
but not he, valiant vagrant, Willy Wart.

Betsy Burkjem Willy Wart bought
chocolate chimney stack,
munched it, melted on his tongue,
to his teeth clung,
stomach swelled with sweet bung,
washed it down with dandelion dew drink,
made Betsy think at her he would wink,
but in squelchy mud, felt her toes sink,
knew her hope would topple no good
when she understood
when Willy Wart, up front frank,
said he drove an iron fast tank,
and preferred Melinda Jorpbean,
who kept her step and ledge clean,
but Melinda told him she would only smile,
if he tickled the chin of a cracked scaled crocodile.

Rork Bugrug, village vacant brain,
fledged grin when Willy Wart
asked him what train
he must catch snatch to find
the fabled land of crocodile.
Rork suggested river named Nile,
if not, another called Amazon
where swamped close cousin of crocodile
called alligator, mentioned after see you later.

Willy Wart saw worldly wide trap,
saw need to become salty sailor chap,
a barnacle billed mariner,
to find such hot lands of glistening grapes,
jungly miasmas of jabbering apes,
so forced Rork in soot sack
with sown on scraps of lino,
to disguise himself as crocodile,
but more like hornless rhino.
Nevertheless, Willy Wart photographed himself
as he tickled Rork’s false reptile chin.
Now, he thought, Melinda he would win.
But, back home, enraged,
to find her engaged
to Bruce Borgenbonce, athlete complete,
two feet fleet foot race pace,
silver trophy lit his face grace.
At his photograph, she did laugh,
thought he must be infantile,
to think he tickled the chin
of a true, fearsome crocodile.
So Willy Wart built hermit home,
let beard grow to look gnome.
Deep in twiggy trees and bushy briars,
woke dawn wakened bright birdy choirs,
high in Morky Mountains,
he walked with giant Fingal Fangjaw,
who taught him to hog honk and crow caw.

 

 

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