This poem began when my good friend Burtrum and I were
exchanging snippets of text, and evolved over the course
of a couple of days. The word "Hobbikendercaun" is a
compilation of three words, Hobbit, Kender, and Leprechaun.
We jointly decided that my wife must be a blend of all 3 races.
Thus, it is in her honor that I dedicate this poem.
The Hobbikendercaun
There once was a happy hobbikendercaun
who joyously toiled the whole day long.
She kicked a can along a winding lane
While slandering an Okie with words profane.
She kicked Burtrum's butt from dusk to dawn
Out the front door and across the lawn.
But Burtrum did laugh as he skipped away
For her legs were too short to carry the day.
Rant she did as he howled with glee
For she was too short to catch him you see.
His chortles of glee were choked in fear
As her short little foot slammed into his rear.
That was her aim of that there is no doubt.
She sent forth a kick his rear to clout.
Here things went sadly amiss you see,
Her leg wouldn't raise past the height of his knee.
What poor Burtrum forgot I am sad to report
Hobbikendercaun memories are none too short.
She will remember, she'll grumble and fume,
While Burtrum stays away to avoid his doom.
PART II
In bars are found humans,dwarves and gnomes,
Lifting up mugs and boasting of home.
But hobbikendercauns one rarely does see,
'Cause they stand no higher than a hobgoblin's knee.
Hiding in plain sight they plot and scheme
While lips curve in smiles and eyes wickedly gleam.
The gnomes they do grumble and dwarves are gruff,
Smoking their pipes and snorting their snuff.
Yet hobbikendercaun are jolly and gay,
Swilling guana brew all the long day.
With cups made of thimbles in their little pink hands,
They stumble 'round merrily in boisterous bands.
Toasting each other with baudy jest and ribald song,
They guzzle their drinks all the night long.
Knotting up shoelaces and laughing with glee;
Their every shenanigan a true joy to see.
Drinking and smoking they while away the nights,
Reveling in taunting and starting of fights.
When a brouhahah gets started they hunker down low,
With much kicking of shins and stomping of toes.
So if ever you see a hobbikendercaun
Acting innocent as a newborn faun,
Best beware their deviltry and guard well your brew,
Lest ther pranks and merriments be practiced on YOU.
