The Dwarflet

In stature the dwarf was a manlet–
Burly, short-squatty and hale;
And wearily he gazed on the Grippli
His Wifelet had put in his ale.

“Now reach me, sweet Donda, my gauntlet,
And curl the old beardlet for sport;
Let me tromp the trip of the holding,
And shoot thee an Orc!”

She has reached him his bounded brass bracers;
She has curled the old beardlet for sport;
She is busily baking a bunlet,
To welcome him home with his Orc.

On he speeds, never wasting a wordlet,
Though thoughtlets cling closely as cowl,
To the spot where the hideous Orclet
So uproarously howls.

 

“The Dwarflet” By Kay Cowl

kcowl88@gmail.com

Based on the poem The Manlet by Lewis Carroll