Poetry for Roald Dahl

I was once in a café with that chap Roald Dahl drinking tea

When he peered inside my teacup to see what he could see.

And then he told me of the strange things that among the tea leaves were going to be

Like Matilda and Witches, a Big Giant, a Fox and a little vampire Bee? . . .

And that one day he would sit on the shelves of a very posh library.

Well that was plainly mad so I said, I must go.

So we both went home

And Roald Dahl wrote of the things the tea leaves seemed to show

As well as many others things while his enthusiasm was in full flow

Meanwhile I was at home trying to sit on my IKEA bookcase shelf

Which I think I proved was impossible, unless I was a rather small tiny elf.

Then blow me if Roald Dahl did not acquire some well deserved fame.

While I fell off my thin bookshelf into obscurity, which was really not my quest or aim

But life is fickle and can be a bumpy ride

And when Roald Dahl now sees me

He will

Runaway

And

Hide

I threw a Giant Peach at him once just to annoy him

I don’t know why he runs away and hides I mean I congratulated him on his film with that snowman and a small child in, who spent a lot of time annoying folk by singing in a high pitched voice for ages. I have even been round to his house a few times and sung . . . . I’m walking in the air. . . . . .  Though his letterbox. Apparently the police said he would appreciate it if I did not turn up at three o’clock in the morning, and he has even denied having anything to do with snowmen . 

Well he cant trick me with his cunning unexpected tales, telling me he has a ferocious vampire bee guarding his house. And I was told he even has a secret hidey-hole which he accesses though a secret door which involves climbing over his bookshelves.