It was a calm, quiet night
in the town of Wicker Bell,
when in the air,
there wafted a smell.
Not like a flower, no,
not your average kind,
a smell quite a bit harder to find.
The witch of Wicker was working away
on a new potion, one which could save the day.
You see, the Snorap was coming, was lumbering through
the woods, much like a Wabble Kaloo
who’s blue mood was ruined when he sang out of tune
for the Kaloo is known for it’s depressing mood.
Well, as the smell wafted,
much like a fart.
You know, hard to get used to,
yet an everyday art.
The Snorap was frightened,
and returned home.
It’s shiny bald head,
shimmering like chrome.
And Wicker’s Witch was given a prize,
for the smelly concoction she had devised.
For though it burned your nostrils,
and watered your eyes,
This smell was more magical than a Bobble Kahlise.