The Glimble

The Glimble, the Glomble,

Creatures wonderful and true!

Mighty and two-horned

Both crimson and blue.

 

Twelve strong legs

And eight lovely wings!

An ode to the Glimble

All should sing.

 

A creature more fleet-footed

You’ll surely never meet

Simply put, at footwork

A Glimble cannot be beat.

 

These beasts traipse through glens

And drink from clear pools

Glimbles avoid spotted hens

And gather around fools.

 

The smallest Glimble I ever saw

Was the size of a rich man’s heart.

The largest Glimble I’ve ever beheld

Could hold layered cakes like small tarts.

 

Glimble hands are slimy and long

With six fingers the width of dimes.

A Glimble’s hand is rather cold 

And can pull one through space or time.

 

Glimbles stride in packs of four

Sometimes eight—but never ten.

I once saw a glibble of seventeen!

But it’s been years since then.

 

Glimbles live a thousand years

And right before they die

Another Glimble takes their hand

And brings them back to life!

 

What a magnificent life it must be

To be a Glimble glomming.

But alas, I’m just a lowly slertch

And so I’ll keep on slontching