The Dance of the Fillywigs

Here is my tale,

of a species impossibly true,

some dancing, danger,

and a flickering blue;

 

walk amongst the Wonkytonk,

the bridge of the Hululaababloo,

above stained-glass waters of the Bibbilybonk,

you may see them; they’re scared of you.

 

Fillywigs –

blue winged creatures,

fluffy manes, colour like pigs

green skin, porcelain features

 

their shrills shake the bewildered wood,

Anamotilia, squeals within

a forest of green and darkened hood,

long trunks of hillylilly trees, branches thin

 

the purple of the sky,

blossoms of pinertwissle bursting amongst the brush,

celebrations and dancing are nigh,

Fillywigs spin and twirl, figures of blurry blush

 

with the oola-paloola, pale opals glisten

joyous weeping, joining their dance,

ascending ovals, shush – listen:

tragedy’s baiting in an enemy’s stance.

 

For above sits the Sicklewick

silently watching before the strike –

orange claws extend in one flick.

Fillywigs flee, shaking and ripe

 

growling gore bloodies the scene

viscera scattered on emerald leaves.

Climb out of Anamotilia, before you’re seen!

back over the bridge as the Sicklewick cleaves,

 

past the Wonkytonk,

far from here, quickly, please!

Far away, go over the Bibbilybonk,

Fillywigs prance amongst the trees,

 

Now, heed my warning if you explore into these woods

these are exquisite creatures, that much is true

but be wary, wear disguises and no shiny goods

for the Sicklewick who hunts Fillywigs, will also hunt you.