My husband occasionally get his words muddled and one day came out with 'Hiffle Sploffer' when he was telling me about a special offer, and I couldn't help but wonder what a Hiffle Sploffer was like.

The Hiffle Sploffer

The Hiffle Sploffer skips along
humming his favourite frusby song.
His tail is fluffy, tassel-tipped,
he's stout and stripy round the hips.
His legs are bowed - his rolling gait
means he's seldom ever late.

Just three foot two with flappy ears -
you'd be amazed how much he hears -
bushy eyebrows, wiffly nose
and purple polish on his toes.
He's partial to pineapple juice,
pickled eggs and chocolate mousse.

Though he loves to dance and sing
that's not his 'mostest' favourite thing.
and so, no matter where he is,
he's sniffing for that certain sniff,
then flappy ears twist to and fro
until he knows which way to go.

He crosses rivers, bounce streams,
on through sunlight and moonbeams,
over mountains, across the moors;
he knows what he is looking for.
He's nearly there! He's full of glee;
his eyes glow green excitedly.

His joy's complete, at last he spies -
illuminated by
his eyes -
a Poet-tree in full leaf
that he can curl up underneath
for an afternoon of special time,
filled with lovely words and rhymes. 

© Samantha Newbury 2014