Forgive me - be done in a trice,
But there’s other kinds of poltergeist
Or, to be more imprecise,
A kind of noisy cockatrice
And servant of the AntiChrist
Deployed to add a certain spice
To our affairs, there to entice
The gullible with merchandice
Invariably overpriced
While bellowing (yet quite concise)
That all our enemies are lice
And not as we are (we’re like mice)
And thereby steep us in their vice
That equates hell with paradise
(Where all’s seen as a game of dice
Through lying eyes, as chilled as ice)
Explaining how, when they top-slice,
It’s their own brand of sacrifice.
Although, if you take my advice,
When watching these brash poltergeists
Slice and splice, once, twice, then thrice,
A single brittle grain of rice
And serve it up on edelweiss
Drawling “All yours! Yum yum”, suffice
It to say, the poltergeists
Make all that noise and come on nice
To blind you to their masters’ heists.
Now that’s me done on poltergeists.