The Gobbledegooky Fandangle Parade

by kiwisteveh

Oh, the Gobbledegooks have a party today,
On the Feast of Fandangle, let's watch them at play.
'Tis midsummer magic and holiday mirth,
Most surely the happiest place on the earth.

The castle's bedecked with blue bunting and cheer
And Hilda (the scullery-maid of the year)
Has finished her chores and is free to go down
Over drawbridge and moat to the heart of the town.

The streets are alive with a great bustling throng;
There's markets and minstrels and music and song.
The jesters and jugglers perform where they please
And the acrobats fly from a twinkling trapeze.

Admired by the cheerful and colourful hordes.
Magog the Magician is swallowing swords.
A puff of blue smoke, then a thunderclap's heard -
Magog's disappeared, he's replaced by a bird.

Then far down the street, there's a stir and a shout
Where the stilt-walking clowns are all teet'ring about.
A column of cohorts, a grand cavalcade,
It's the Gobbledegooky Fandangle Parade.

A stately old elephant leading the way,
On her back rides the King; hear the crowd shout, "Hooray!"
The Queen's on a camel, the Dukes, looking splendid,
By page-boys and valets and grooms are attended.

And look! The Princesses! Clarissa, Estella!
Each twirling a brightly bejewelled umbrella.
Prime Minister Pablo Portmanteau comes next,
Then General Dogsbody, purple and vexed.

The prize-winning pumpkins from all of the land,
Cheerleaders cheering, the top marching band,
Flamboyant flamingos, gymnastic giraffes,
A keg full of monkeys, a barrel of laughs.

And then through the crowd, there's a stirring, a stumble,
A wrangle, a rustle, a ripple, a rumble;
It's Hilda who's shoving with groan and with grunt
through a jungle of legs right on up to the front.

For there, riding last, on a pint-sized wee pony,
The posh palomino he calls Macaroni,
Is Rupert the princeling, he's small but he's proud -
He whirls a sword round to the cheers of the crowd.

And Hilda cheers loudly, the loudest of all,
Then turns to her neighbour, a chap who's quite tall.
"Can you please lift me up?" she asks sweet as you please,
"I need to be higher than knobbly old knees."

In a trice she's uplifted and gives a big wave
To Rupert the Prince, looking handsome and brave,
And Rupert smiles shyly at his little friend...
...and that, until next time's the finish....
..... THE END

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Quatrain Poetry Contest contest entry