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Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week! , which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,
I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered.
And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,
We'd have been three times as brave, we think,
And Custard said, I quite agree
That everybody is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
Prince of humorous verse Ogden Nash
Marmaelady  Jun 2020
Custard Bun
Marmaelady Jun 2020
My previous school’s canteen had a treat
called Custard Bun, just worth 20 pesos
One of the cheaper snacks, amidst a variety of 25s and 27s
There were times I skipped lunch due to a meeting
But during the five minutes left going up to the fourth floor,
I would dash towards the canteen, just to buy Custard Bun,
and pair it with the classic Calamansi Juice
What makes it special, you ask?
A cheek-like bun, whose only design
was a yellow custard swirl on top
Soft, and
Filled with a pale yellow cream
That isn’t too sweet, unlike its choco-bun rivals
What made it so different?
Perhaps it reminded me of the olden days
Which I sometimes reminisce about, between fits of silence
In this unfamiliar place
I remember, how like its sweetness takes me back to when I was a child
When I loved eating this bread called Graciosa, which was just a loaf of bread topped with
sugar and butter
How simple it always seemed then, how it never needed more
How in times when we get distracted by life’s complexities
Sometimes an ordinary treat is what we need to get by

I remember writing articles for a sports event —
it was night at school
And someone offered us a big box of abandoned swirl-topped buns
Still in their plastics
Untouched by the athletes they were meant to serve
I thought, how lonely they must be in the night
So I took one, and another, which turned to five,
Brought some home, ate some along the way
It felt like I finally found consolation, eating the bun,
Whose taste I could never put my finger to
And afterwards, whenever I passed the canteen
I always looked for it, for the bun that felt like home
And often see one hidden amongst others, just waiting to be
The bun which I discovered,
Was named Custard
And I realized, even if I never tasted Custard in my whole life
It was like a forgotten friend, who came back from a long journey
And I just remembered its name

So if you ask me,
Why I love Custard Bun so much,
If you ever had that feeling of remembering something
Seemingly long lost, from eons ago
And you find it in the most unexpected of places
Bringing with it the most precious of memories
You’d understand so

In a new place, I hope to find it once again.
Not so tiny poem about one of my most favourite foods. Wrote this for my sis. I miss school. I’m hungry.