Little Billy Batton-Wings
Was not afraid of many things
He’d even once explored a cave
You see, he really was quite brave
But Billy lived on Avenue Pine
And what sent shivers up his spine
Was one old neighbor down the block
The one they simply called “Dreadlock.”
The Dreadlock’s house looked dark and cold
And very, very, very old
The Dreadlock never left his house
And was as quiet as a mouse
But rumor had it that at night
The Dreadlock had an appetite
For eating supple little things
Like boys named Billy Batton-Wings
And that’s why Billy did avoid
The house of this strange humanoid
A man whom he had never seen
But whom he knew was dreadful mean.
Now as it happened to turn out
Young Billy was a new Boy Scout
And every August they’d fund-raise
By selling donuts (chocolate glazed)
“Each boy scout,” said the leader, “should
Sell donuts in his neighborhood.
Don’t skip a single house or shack.
I don’t want Boy Scouts here who slack.”
Poor Billy cried, “But on my block
There lives the dreaded old Dreadlock!”
The leader said, “Just ring the bell.
And if he doesn’t come, oh well.”
“But if he does, I’ll have you know
He’ll eat me up from head to toe!”
The leader said, “Enough of that.
A Boy Scout’s not a scaredy cat.”
And with that, there was no more talk
Poor Billy went home to his block
He sold his donuts faithfully
To Mrs. Blops and Mr. Glee
And many other neighbors too
Like Mr. Bloke and Mrs. Gloo
And at the setting of the sun
He’d been to every house but one
He almost thought he’d stop at that
But then thought, “I’m no scaredy cat.
I’ll march right up to Dreadlock’s door
And sell a dozen, maybe more!”
But as he headed to the gate
His knobby knees began to shake
And in his throat there formed a lump
His heart began to thump and thump
And though he was in state of shock
He gave the door a “knock knock knock”
The hinges soon began to creak
He made a little frightened squeak
For in the door a figure loomed
And Billy felt that he was doomed
The figure was tall, dark and strong
With dreadful dreadlocks three feet long
And Billy with his mind ablur
Asked, “W-would you l-like some donuts sir?
Y-you see, I’m t-trying to fund-raise…
They’re 50 cents, and ch-chocolate glazed…”
But Dreadlock, like a crafty fox
Just snatched away the donut box
Then disappeared inside his house
As quickly as a sewer mouse
Poor Billy cried out in dismay
He thought of all he’d have to pay
A box of donuts! That was worth
More than he had in his small purse
He’d tried so hard to fund-raise, yet
He’d very soon end up in debt
So with his head drooped toward the floor
He walked off sadly from the door
Until he thought he heard a squeak
A quiet, rusty door-hinge creak
He glanced back at the house so old
And, lo! He saw a pot of gold!
Upon the doorstep, in the night
The gold was like a shining light
Turns out that crafty dreadlocked fox
Had paid up for the donut box
Young Billy grabbed the pot with glee
And took it home for all to see
His parents said, “Well how ‘bout that!
Our Billy ain’t no scaredy cat.”
Then Billy saw with his own eyes
That etched upon the gold pot’s side
There was a phrase, a phrase which said:
“The Dreadlock is not one to dread.”
