Poetry / The Tockalosh

Long ago and far away
Through lands where treacle puddings play
Between the earth and Milky Way
Where purple lions rule the day,
The Folk of Flack, high on a hill
Lived peaceful happy lives until
The day their world stood bleak and still
And hearts with fear and dread did fill.
Where folk still tremble at the name
“The Tockalosh”…the word caused pain.
This creature is so fierce and bold,
His thirty fingers, icy cold,
Grip his victims, I am told,
Around the neck and ne’er unfold.
His thirty eyes do pierce and stare
Frighten and follow you everywhere
Drawing you closer and closer still
Sinister laughter mocking ”scream if you will”
His ears are large and great in number,
He hears you creep, he hears you slumber
His lair awaits, you’re caught! Too late!
The Tockalosh he will not wait,
There’s no escape, for when he comes,
He’ll swallow you whole on his toothless gums!