The Digsloo

There once was a town called Hobbledy-Bean,
That prided themselves on being so clean.
The pavement was shiny, the air had a glow,
The ‘Cleanest Town’ winner, five years in a row.

This year, however, the town might not win,
The mayor called a meeting and said, “listen in!”
“There’s smudges, and stains, and mud on the floor,
Dust on the windows and grime on the door.”

“The children are grubby from making mud pies,
In this filthy state, we won’t win the prize.
I’m sick of the mud and the dirt and the dust,
It must be vanquished, forever, it must!”

Then came a mumble, the earth twitched and grumbled,
The floor creaked and cricked, the air shook and rumbled!
A creature appeared on a swirly dust cloud,
And stood on the stage, in front of the crowd.  

The creature was short, and brownish, and lumpy,
With green grass for hair and a face that was bumpy.
On top of its head grew a single pink bloom,
It spoke with a gravelly voice to the room.

“I am the Digsloo,” it said with a bow,
“Your cleanliness problems have summoned me now.
I speak for the soil, or ‘dirt’ as you say,
And I’ve heard you want it to all go away.”

“Please!” cried the town, “but what is your fee?”
The Diglsoo said softly, “I’ll do it for free.
“But just to make sure, it all needs to go?”
“Yes,” said the mayor, “this town needs to glow.”

“Done,” said the Digsloo who promptly vanished,
And with a BANG! The dirt was banished.
Hobbledy-Bean was more clean than before,
No doubt they’d win the prize once more.

But the next day, the town saw the change,
The streets were still clean, but something was strange.
The whole place had a lovely sheen…
But did that building always lean?

“Where’s the grass?” a small boy said,
The football captain scratched his head.
Without the grass they couldn’t play,
Cricket, hockey, golf, or croquet.

The air was hot and next to town,
The farmer’s fields were now all brown.
The trees were gone, the yards were bare,
In fact, there weren’t plants anywhere!

The birds flew off, the worms went too,
The cows left town with an angry ‘Moo!’
The shepherd rounded up her flock,
“I cannot graze my sheep on rock.”

Without the soil, no flowers, no trees,
Without the plants, no birds or bees.
No mice or hens or shady leaves,
No cows or milk or butter or cheese.

Hobbledy-Bean had never been worse.
Had the Digsloo cast a curse?
Only the dinosaur hunter was pleased.
As all the bones were now easy to see.

Then came the mumbles, the shaking, the rumbles!
The Digsloo was back! Amidst many grumbles.
The people were angry and sad and confused,
“You played a trick on us all!” they accused.

“No” said the Digsloo, “I answered your call.”
“Removed all the ‘dirt’, once and for all.”
“You took all the soil,” the mayor tried to blame.
“Sometimes, you know, they’re one and the same.”

“But I can fix it, I can restore,
“The soil and birds and plants and more.
“Though if I do, I need to be sure,
“That you won’t be calling it ‘dirt’ anymore.”

Hobbledy-Bean is no longer the cleanest,
But they’ve got their eye on becoming the greenest!
They garden and compost and plant lots of trees,
They care for the worms and the bugs and the bees.

They’ve saved the most fertile land for their crops,
There’s even a book on mud pies in the shops!
And they don’t mind a little earth,
For now they truly know its’ worth.

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