Here the thing about the flibbit,
as it’s time someone explained:
she’s quick as light and light as air,
with mischief on the brain.
When you’re sitting somewhere solemn
and it’s crucial you don’t sneeze,
she’s what tickles at your nostrils
(with her small and knobbly knees).
Or if you’ve put your shoes on
and are ready to step out
but find an itch between your toes,
well, reader, have no doubt:
it’s the flibbit, yes the flibbit,
minor mayhem is her mission,
she’s the overlord of awkward,
irritation’s top magician.
That tingle on your scalp you get
when someone mentions nits?
Mull no more, for in your hair
a certain someone sits.
It’s the flibbit, yes the flibbit,
who is fiddling with your follicles,
this flibbit loves the whipping up
of just such little obstacles.
She’s Ninja of the Niggle,
the nano nag you can’t ignore,
but take note: her naughty knack
is only nuisance, nothing more.
So if you find yourself in trouble
for a fretful sort of fidget,
remember just to answer:
NOT MY FAULT, IT WAS THE FLIBBIT.
© Kate Wakeling, from Cloud Soup, The Emma Press, 2021