Logan was asleep in his bed

Dreaming of mommy milk and being fed

When Goblyns came to take him away

They stalked around his head

Picked him up and spirited him away

Took him through faerie glen and dale

To their secretive place far away

And put him upon their throne.

One of them cried, “We’ll make you our king!

You’ll be much better than the last ding-a-ling.

For we like how you dance

You can do the Hot Potato

The Squishy Tomato

And Smell like country air.

The Goblyns and baby danced a jig

Hopped up and down

Jumped and twirled all around

Making faerie rings

And shaking bee but stings

They gave each other zerberts -Blat!

And slobbered and drooled very fierce

And talked in languages not understood

Often mistaken for cooing.

It went on and on into the night

And would had gone on till morn’s first light

If daddy hadn’t come

“Don’t take him! The Goblyns pleaded and cried

“We like having him around.

There is not another who can dance so fine

Or drool with such refine.

He smells kinda funny

And his nose is kinda runny.

He brings us a new smell

That is kinda ranker and pungent

What it is we can’t tell.”

His daddy replied “He must go home it is time

To be diapered, changed and to dine.”

The Goblyns would let him go

Only with a promise that he could return

To have fun and to dance and to learn

To drool into the wind.

Copyright 2000 Mad Matt Productions