Treasure Island

David Harris

(18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)

A Baby With His Whiskers On (Fun Poem 115)


One day a gypsy came to the door
selling a sprig of heather.
Cross my palm with silver
and I’ll make your wish come true.
I gave some silver coins
and she gave me a green and purple pill.
“Take this last thing at night
and tomorrow your wish will be granted.”

I took her green and purple pill
just as she had instructed.
Next morning I awoke still with my whiskers on,
but my poor wife almost had fit
thinking she’d had a baby in the night.
The magic had changed me rapidly
and now I looked only three.

My wish had been to look younger,
it had come very true,
and the magic had turned me
back to the age of three.
My wife was all fingers and thumbs
wondering just what to do.

How was she going to take me out,
a baby of three with his whiskers on?
I looked like her grandson
and not her husband o f many years.
Even I began to wonder how long
it would take before the magic wore off.

Days moved into weeks
and a baby with his whiskers on
I remained to be.
People took photos of me
not quite believing what they saw.
One day my wife took me to the park
and around in the grass I crawled,
a baby with his whiskers on wearing a nappy.

Then suddenly and without warning,
I came back to my normal age.
Now everybody stared at me,
a man in his sixties in the park with only a nappy on.
I managed to get home
without being arrested,
but had to stay in the car until after dark
in case anyone saw me go in.

The moral of this story,
be careful what you wish for,
as the consequences will not
be exactly what you think
and never take
any green and purple pills from a gypsy.

Submitted: Friday, March 25, 2011
Edited: Wednesday, July 06, 2011

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