The Riddle-Men

by Seth Kallick

JasperCrackenpop Fillymus Fiddle
Was a curious sort, often fond of the riddle.
Though stories and candy were two of his passions,
His keen sense of hygiene and love of cool fashions
Couldn't compete with his ache for a verse,
Which haunted his brainpan like a house with a curse.

So one morning while walking his pet dog McGrady
He stumbled upon a man ranting after a lady.
"Come back next time when you feel you are fit,
To challenge his lordship to a match full of wit.
For when you are smarter I'll give you the time
To throw down your forked tongue and give up the rhyme."

"Oh, my," cried JasperCrackenpop Fillymus Fiddle,
"This must be my day, it's a fine time to riddle.
Excuse me there, sir, or missus if it be,
May I battle with you, for you are looking for me
I rhyme with the best, I can hold my own stature."
The old man looked up and cried out in rapture.
"Finally a bloke who can test me, I think.
Come, let's sit down at this table and drink."

So down on the bench sat Fillymus Fiddle,
And engaged himself in such glorious riddles,
That for forty years, six months, and half a week,
Those old goats sat rhyming, eye to eye, cheek to cheek.
For their beards had grown tangled and fell to the ground,
Old McGrady, the dog, was nowhere to be found.
And back and forth they wavered with grace,
They died in their seats with smiles on their faces.