THE TUMBLEBUM TONGUE-TWISTER - Bliss
The Tumblebum stumbled back into his lair where the odour of sausage and pain Pervaded his soul through the roots of his hair as spun on a chair in the rain The gesticulations of each of his knees had carried him only last night To where crimson taties grow on tiny trees and the moon threw lugubrious light And there in profusion of jocular weed he spied a young maiden so fair Who consumed a solution of carrot and mead with a snake and a mule and a bear He found on the floor of a dried river bed the conclusion of everything neat And he fell for the sound in the top of her head with its vertical indigo beat
So he played with the snake and the mule and the bear and he bounced in the heat of the fire But he secretly nibbled the roots of his hair and he gnawed his soul with desire He watched her unwinding the root of a bush and he counted the stars on her wrist Then he gave the horizon a bit of a push with the bone at the base of his fist And he cried ‘oh by beauty my bane and my broth let me baffle you backward with braille You may break all my biscuits and bother my moth you may butter my bike if I fail! For your eyes are like cannonballs winging away I should die if I told you how few Engines from Endinburgh stop on the way or are shunted at dawn into Crewe!
He dressed her in mutton fat muslin and milk in sawdust and sable and sand He dressed her in satin and sorrow and silk and the sweat from the palm of his hand He sang her a song with the tips of his toes and he danced on the roof of a train He went on a quest for the end of his nose and then couldn’t find her again! The Tumblebum stumbled for many an hour with a dark and a dangerous air Until by the light of a bacon-tree flower he found the back door to his lair The Tumblebum stumbled back into his cave with his ears and his elbows algow And now that he’s rumbled the steps on the stave he’s planning to play the banjo | ||