Bewear the green fulfillment of your wish!

not snow in winter,

no rain nor hail.

not fog snd mist,

not summer gale,

not humid air,

that is so thick,

not putrid smog,

that makes you sick.

so ask the wizards,

if you wish,

they’ll clamer so,

in their foul neich,

but you may not expect,

that which,

befalls falls upon the earth.

goopy, sticky, greenish-sick,

smells of rotten frogs in milk,

king Derwin’s own, the foolish tick,

gums up the throat, and cannot shreik,

oh sad you’ll be, the stench and reek,

you’ll yearn to things past, of last week.

so care , my friend of what you seek,

and oobleck wishes , or of that ilk.

Ted Geisel wrote wisely, ’twas not Greek,

i will close and no more speak.