“Hey there mister, where’re you from?

Why’re you here from where you come?

Is that a moose you’re riding on?

I got a deal for you, not a con!

That moose you’re riding looks mighty dirty,

With a good wash it would look purdy.

Whaddya say? It’s not too pricey,

Just a dozen dollars, and I’m super precise-y.

I’ll vacuum its fur, top and bottom,

It’ll be as fresh as it felt last autumn.

I’ll scrape its hooves with my scraping iron,

My manicure makes it the elk-world Byron.

I’ll wax its horns so they shine in the sun,

You can blind onlookers, jolly good fun!

I’ll prune its tail to look like a whip,

To deal with the flies on your long trip.

As a last step I’ll hose it down,

With elephant pump, it won’t drown!

Icing on the cake, brush its teeth,

Stop the elk-itosis rising from beneath.

In the meantime, you can have a short break,

The fairy café serves quite good cake.”

I woke up the very next day,

Some fairy cake gave me an in-the-head sway.

I should’ve known with the sellers tricks,

I walked out to see my moose on bricks.

They had stolen its hooves and horns,

And its fur had all been shorn.

I guess I should have been a bit wary,

“Moose-strip gulch” did sound a bit hairy.


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