Poem a Day 3

Continuing a poem a day. Today’s prompt: Three somethings.

Three Helmeths

“‘Three on a match, and I’m the third,’
Is something similar to the Word.”

We asked him if he could be more clear,
And he spoke in a voice only dogs can hear.

We asked of the dogs if they would expound,
And all they made was a mournful sound:

Three helmeths from the horrock glen
Sing falmeray and almeray
Went foledmar and back again
Sing famlermay in a hoace grop.

The first was glee and an untermo
Sing falmeray, etc.
And went wherever the whin would go.
Sing falmeray etc.

The second had, on his frane, a borse
Sing falmeray, etc.
He left behind with the melsey course.
Sing falmeray, etc.

But the third was grancious and always slaw
Sing falmeray, etc.
To bole alent furra eiring gaw.
Sing falmeray in a hoace grop.

Dogs are stupid. But they assured
Us all this was closest to what they heard.

We jotted down everything we could catch,
The two of us sitting here with the match.


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