Remember to Run!

We tickle and tackle our tick tackle tocks.
We mickle and mackle our mick mackle mocks.
We digit-dingle words on our doogit doggit dinglers.
We tip tap away with our do-digiting finglers.

Those dinglers and mackle-mock, tackling tockses,
All wrapped up and shined up in perfect black boxes.
Yes all of those fancy app-tappy devices,
Bring out our most gamey and chatty-app vices.

The shiniest, most finey-est do-digit dodinglers,
Are built on the hill, faraway in Zozingler.
Up, up in the tower where little hands toil.
Assembling the tock-ticking Bobanga Faloils.

Way up in the factory with no sunny sun,
Where little Zozingler hands work til they're done.
High up in the tower small hands do their job
Building buzz-muzzlers, for the Great King Jobnob.

King Jobnob he tells them to work everyday.
That working the hardest will earn them their pay.
That Jobnob he works them all hours of the day,
With help from his blacky bird Eddy, they'd say,
"Up, up before light and home late, late at night."
"Those Zozingling finglers won't ever see light!"

And Eddy would peck at them morning and night,
Making sure those Zozinglers don't put up a fight,
"Why can't we go play, our hands are too sore!"
Quoth miserable Eddy, "You're free nevermore!"

Yes Jobnob, he works them 20 hours a day,
For an eighth of a fifth of shell-scheckel as pay.
Poor Zozingler kids sleep 4 hours per night,
On factory window-hung hammocks, tied tight.

So Zozingler kids forgot to be funny,
About sun-sunny days, and how to be runny.
Those Zozingler kids don't get to see light,
So Whoompsies can dingle their finglers delight.
Those Zozingler kids forgot how to run,
They forgot about forests and creamed-ice and fun.

So Whoompsies can sit and forget about sun?

So Whoompsies can sit and forget about sun!!!
And forget about spinning and running and fun!
Forget about beaches and salt-windy days,
To keep lazy eyes square in buzz-muzzle haze.

Yes, now it's the Whoompsies forgetting 'bout sun.
Little Whoompsies forget to Deedle-Do and run!
And now it's the Whoompsies who must pay the toll,
So Jobnob can live on the Golden House knoll!

Funning and running and sunning all day,
Will make you more happy and smiley I'd say.
Our bodies were made to move here and up there,
Our footsies are happy when out in fresh air.

No do-diddling thingy competes with the beach.
No fancy-fun foody app tastes like a peach.
No new fangled tock-ticking banga can bring
The sound that the sand seagulls make when they sing.

Wake up little Whoompsy, don't give up your day.
Don't let digit-do-dingling take it away.
Go jump in the mud, build a fort, RUN RUN RUN!
Most importantly small Whoompsy, remember to fun!

Tags: happy, metaphor, wishful,