Theobolds Thicket

By Priscilla Brett

 

In Theobolds Thicket, a house there once stood

It was made out of bricks and crafted from wood.

It had shutters and knockers, and a hearth made of stone,

But what made it strange, was who called it home.

 

The house in the thicket, though normal it seemed

Held creatures and monsters like none you have dreamed.

It was home to a dragon. An evil elf, Joe.

A hog-faced hobgoblin and a faerie named Roe.

 

There were tiny house elves, who scurried about.

And when others left messes, they’d stomp and they’d shout.

The thing understairs was a wicket named Bob,

Whom the house elves just hated (because he’s a slob).

 

In the chimney there lived a thing called Ashoo.

Who, on windy days, howled a howling Haroooo.

The mice in the cupboard have tea-time with Mick,

He’s an Irish Wood-Olly, who make termites sick.

 

In the fridge lives a Mon-Sun, who checks on the food.

She’s a rather strange creature and sometimes, quite rude.

There’s a sprite in the breadbox, and imp on the shelf,

And a mermaid who’s preening and bathing herself

 

In a room down the hall, lives a troll named Kazim,

Who’s really a darling, though folks think him mean.

Right next to Kazim is a room for the Grimlows,

A creature of shadow, that nobody quite knows.

 

One day there was nothing, the next he was there!

All strange and shadowed and covered in hair.

In the room next to his is a family of Awsocks,

A strange type of critter made out of lost socks.

 

In the left hallway closet sleeps a small linen fairy,

She’s dreaming of princes, the one she will marry.

In the third level bathroom is the head of the Grake,

Who lives in the plumbing, like a clog-eating snake.

 

 

 

In the bedroom next-door is a strange looking thing,

Made of other creatures. Snake for tail. Bat for wing.

They call it Chimera, but she prefers Jane,

She likes singing show tunes and dancing in rain.

 

In the attic, in the dark, a phoenix tends her nest.

And below her, a griffin sleeps and guards her in his rest.

Edgar, is head manticore. He is a fearful type.

But he’s a wise old manticore and always knows what’s right.

 

He watches over all the beasts, and minds the monsters too

But mind! His eyes are ever watchful and might just fall on you.

In a shoebox, in the closet, wrapped in gauze with painted eyes

Is the mummy of Queen Neeboo, the one who never dies.

 

Next to her, in azure jars, are prickly night Ramoo,

A kind of monster pickle, immersed completely in goo.

The one who eats these pickles, is a zombie. Arty Sam.

He’s only partly deadish, and mostly still a man.

 

Arty shares a bedroom, with a vampire named Alfred,

Who’s deathly scared of spiders and anything that’s red.

Alfred’s girl is Wendy, and Wendy is a witch.

She rides a wolf named Bezus, who’s got a sort of twitch.

 

When Bezus sees a cat, he turns and runs away,

Because a fortune teller told him, he be bitten on one day.

The house, though full of monsters, kept open its doors

So as man banished nightmares, soon came even more

 

In crawled Under-Bedders, and Closeted-Elle-Boo

Things that haunted bedrooms and ate the fear and gloom

Ghosts and wraiths and poltergeist, they all came in the night.

All had the same sad story, man had no more time for fright.

 

So grew Theo’s house, in the thicket by the stream

It grew so full that it began, bursting at the seams

Things continued this way for a fortnight, until arrived Big Ben

Who was a giant out of Spain, Who stood ninety-two foot ten

 

The creatures of Theobolds thicket, called a parley at the stream

They even invited Mon-Sun, if she promised not to be mean

“We’ve a problem” Edgar rumbled, when he spoke a silence fell

“We’ve no more room for monsters, and if you cannot tell,

 

Our poor abode is full to brim, not a mouse could fit

If any more monsters come to stay, outside you’ll have to sit

This upset the crowd you see, they’d nowhere else to go

Some monsters started crying, they were so filled with woe

 

Said fairy Roe “We’re lost I fear, for man he has no place

For things that have no value printed plainly on their face”

“I agree” growled Bezus, “Man has no more fear or drive.

He loves plastic metal things, that were never alive.

 

“Perhaps,” the phoenix sang, “ there somehow is a way,

To show to man we have worth, and haven’t seen our day.”

Suddenly a tiny voice, soft and small and mild

Spoke out from back the frightened crowd, it was a tiny child.

 

“ I think that what you say is wrong,” she spoke above the hum

“For every person needs a monster a thing to overcome.

I’ll be right back,” the child said and ran into the dark

The monsters sat there wanting, until sang the morning lark.

 

When sunshine crept out ‘ore the hills and night gave in to day

The monsters began to worry that the girl had lost her way

Sudden came a sound so large it gave them all a fright

And a group of tired townsfolk walked from wood into the light.

 

The little girl who led them, grinned wide from ear to ear

“See!? I have brought you people who aren’t afraid to fear!”

The Butcher, he stepped forward, and turning to Mr Grake

Said, “ I have, I fear, a problem. That needs a toilet snake!”

 

So Mr Grake left Theobolds, and much to his surprise

Spent the remainder of his days, eating toilet-clogging pies.

From the crowd stepped Alice who to the linen fairy said

“I’m so very much afraid of the prince beneath my bed”

 

The Linen Fairy, happy, smiled, and quickly followed on

This sort of thing continued, till all but Ed were gone.

Edgar stood there beaming, and looked at the broken house

Cupboards now stood bear, the only soul inside, a mouse

 

The house it seemed had given up, its work all done, it sighed

The house in Theobolds Thicket, softly moaned, collapsed, and died

Edgar looking at the girl, and though children on him wore,

Said, “ I hope you have some purpose, for this old Manticore”