Poetry break!

In lieu of a post of my own writing, I provide for you the infintely more entertaining work of Ogden Nash (one of my two favorite poets, the other being the far less jolly Gerard Manley Hopkins).

The Wendigo
by Ogden Nash

The Wendigo,
The Wendigo!
Its eyes are ice and indigo!
Its blood is rank and yellowish!
Its voice is hoarse and bellowish!
Its tentacles are slithery,
And scummy,
Slimy,
Leathery!
Its lips are hungry blubbery,
And smacky,
Sucky,
Rubbery!

The Wendigo,
The Wendigo!
I saw it just a friend ago!
Last night it lurked in Canada;
Tonight, on your veranada!
As you are lolling hammockwise
It contemplates you stomachwise.
You loll,
It contemplates,
It lollops.
The rest is merely gulps and gollops.

Note:  the Wendigo is real — at least, it was at one point (and perhaps still is) considered to be real.

Second note: I was reminded of the Wendigo by its mention in a story by the jaw-droppingly fabulous Rob Shearman.