.................
There was a crocodile salesman
On Barkham Street,
Brandishing a licorice cane,
And feathered sneakers on his feet.
His sharp and pointy mustache
Shared the color of his eyes,
And his lip was curled to a grin
A'spoutin' livered-belly lies.
"Can I interest you, good sir, " He said.
"In a genuine banana head?
Enchanted by the harvest moon
One late, late Autumn afternoon? "
"Or this fine lotus elinimator -
And they're very hard to find!
Hand sculpted from a basaalam,
Just look at that design!
Arabesque and intricate,
An exquisite shadfly plume.
A shadow ornamental
To any royal tomb."
"This parka was once owned, it's true,
By Wilbur Wicket Wallace Wee,
That infamous adventurer who
Sailed the Speckled~Spiral Sea
In his own watercolor canoe
Carved from an old Idwinda Tree.
And I'll part with it, but just to you
For a sovereign silver coin, or three."
"This here is a Battle Worm
In full body armor
I bartered from a
Dew Worm Farmer
In the far, far East
Of Old Madrid,
For half of half
Of half a quid."
"And here's a Meister Mystic Stone
Made from one authentic chicken bone.
Once owned by
The late Winthrop the Third,
As a gift to his Umbrella Bird,
Who snatched it right up from the bowl,
Swallowing the wobble whole."
"And this, this here, is magic dust,
It's very fine, and twice as rare.
Acquired from a magic sea
Deep in the heart of Neverwhere.
'tis mined by Treebin Folk, you see,
And purified through Elvin fire.
One fragile grain of magic dust
Will bring to you your hearts desire."
He prodded every silly thing
He hid inside a secret box,
As round as an old teething ring
The gentleman had locked with locks.
He'd tap it here, and there we'd see
A genuine apostrophe ~
Or a goose that played a string guitar,
He once found in a trolley car.
He held an elevator key
He said was probably for me,
If only I was ever wise
And read the barter of his eyes.
But I could only think of things
The others could not see,
Tiny flakes of knowledge
That mattered more to me.
Like, perhaps, "sir,is it true
You hold a penny in your shoe
For luck?I've heard the story said,
It grants you favor up ahead."
I asked him of his many lives.
And of his four and twenty wives.
If he had a dog, a bird, a cat.
Important little things like that.
Then, with the grandest, greatest smile,
I asked where he kept his crocodile.
The one of which the old wives tell,
He surely, doubtless, had for sale,
"Is it hiding in your magic box?
The one you cover up with locks?
Is it in your marisat?
Or does it hide beneath your hat? "
I bet it lurks about your hair.
It's got to feel quite safe up there,
Way up where I cannot see,
Obscure and far away from me.
Or maybe it wears a disguise,
And can't be seen by mortal eyes."
But this Crocodile Salesman
Adjusted his fine tie,
Dusted off his spectacle
And looked me in the eye.
"One thruppence for your answer, boy."
But I had not one red cent.
So 'round 'about the salesman turned,
And down the road he went...
Copyright © MMXIV Richard D. Remler
**A Children's Tale**
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem