The Gurgler

My mother says, “Beware! Beware!

For surely there’s an angry bear!”

My brother says the wolves will growl

When they’re too close to howl.

But there’s no creature in the wood

Who scares me like the Gurgler could.

My father says, “There’s no such beast!”

And isn’t frightened in the least.

He strides right down the slippery rocks

And climbs up on the Gurgler’s dock

And hangs his big and meaty feet

To let the greedy Gurgler eat.

He’s lucky he ain’t lost ‘em! Well,

I’m sure it’s cause they REALLY SMELL!

I bet by now you know this creep

Who wallows in the water’s deep,

Who when the water level’s right

Slithers in the dark of night

To hide beneath your cottage dock

And gurgle round the slimy rocks.

I’m sure you’ve waded in the lake

And felt his twiggy fingers take

A pinch of your big toe to feel

If there’s enough to make a meal.

Or maybe as you’ve pulled and strained

To clamber on the dock again,

You’ve missed your step and swung beneath

And kicked you legs in dreadful grief

And felt the clammy, muddy gunk

That settles on the Gurgler’s trunk.

I’m told there is but one sure way

To make the Gurgler go away:

You have to find that one bright place

That glimmers back the sun’s bright face

Upon the glassy rippling lake,

And in an orange bucket take

Pail-fulls of the shining stuff.

And when you think you have enough,

Quickly, quickly take it back

And pour it down the narrow cracks

Between the boards upon the dock.

In seconds it’ll start to rock

And splash about the lake until

You feel like you’re about to spill.

Then all will quickly fall quite still,

And you will know that you have killed
The Gurgler 'neath the dock.