The Orkeldor, et al.
by C. Meton
Table of Contents|
Part 2 appeared
in issue 140.
Once upon a time, one day as I did stroll,
I chanced upon a strange, young thing:
It was a baby troll.
I picked it up and carried it past yonder hill and dale,
And locked it in a wicker crate, and hoped the lock’d not fail.
I checked upon it daily, and daily it did grow,
Until at last I had myself a great big, ugly troll.
Now trolls, you know, are not a pleasant lot;
They steal and eat your chickens, and kill your sheep at night.
But I had me a captive one, and struggle he did try,
But I had kept him from a cub, and he could not go free.
I thought of ways to use him, he was certainly no pet,
And finally it occurred to him that he his match had met.
I still today cannot decide what with him I will do...
Perhaps some night I’ll sneak around and dump him off on you.
* * *
Once I chanced, as I did walk
Through a meadow and a wood,
To see a beauty rare and fair, I watched it as I stood.
It was the lovely unicorn, All white and so majestic;
And as it grazed I wished a ride
Into its world of magic.
But unicorns, though gentle,
Are not great riding steeds;
So I watched until it ate its fill,
Then vanished through the weeds.
* * *
The Orkeldor is popular, For people like to hear
Of facts about the Orkeldor, the creature that they fear.
It’s a mysterious and strange thing, this Orkeldor of fable.
He stalks and eats ’most anything, and doesn’t use a table.
You know his claws are long and sharp, his teeth can crush the bones;
And you know his reputation for breaking up our homes.
He only hunts in darkness, and likes to wade at night
Among the lovely sha-sha trees, his food to catch and eat.
* * *
Beware the Orkeldor, my son. He’s crafty, and he’s fast.
He likes to eat up little boys, and doesn’t make them last.
He eats them up quite quickly, he gobbles them, he does.
He doesn’t have the manners of a hippopotamus.
He sneaks up on his victims, or outruns them, he don’t care;
And he will eat up anyone who doesn’t know he’s there.
So look out for that Orkeldor. I’ve warned you, yes I have.
’Cause if you don’t he’ll get you, and you can count on that.
* * *
The sha-sha tree is lovely,
It grows amongst the flowers,
And smells so sweet-seductive,
One could sit by it for hours.
It has a lovely blossom
That blooms ’most year around,
And grows in glades and meadows
Near quaint and little towns.
Its leaves are light green-yellow,
It flowers pink or blue.
It never seems to make a mess
As some trees seem to do.
It can grow in meadows lovely,|
Or forests, or a bog;
And if it’s ever cut by man
It makes a nice, strong log.
I’ve seen the lovely sha-sha tree.
Its branches all in bloom.
It glows a lovely pastel blue
In the light of the full moon.
It’s the loveliest of flowering trees,
And grows ’most anywhere,
But beware the sha-sha tree, my son:
The Orkeldor lurks there.
To be continued...
Copyright © 2005 by C. Meton