Fenicker Mulch wore his own home grown clothes.
He mixed up his mud in a way no one else knows
With moss, manure and crushed up red shells.
Suffice it to say, he grew his own smells
‘Cause he rubbed this muck into his skin,
Then seeded himself – he was an odd one this Fen.
But from odd came great beauty,
Making oddness his duty.
Fen’s passion for gardens
Became fashionable garments
As sprig upon sprout
Sprung happily out.
Making many think he was maybe an ent,
He wore tulip shoes around socks of mint,
Had one leg of foxglove, the other of lupine,
Belted by grapes lovingly looped in,
With a sunflower jacket over his willowy form
And a young oak on his head to stay warm.
There were of course drawbacks to this wild style
That he only learned about after a while.
It took him six months to put new clothes on,
And he always had trouble when they mowed the lawn.
But he picked up the pieces whenever that passed
And made a new suit from the seeds in the grass.