Jennifer, Whose Pagophilia Was Her Ultimate Downfall.

There was a girl whose greatest vice,
Was to put her tongue on ice,
All kinds of ice, the girl did boast;
“Tastes better than a Sunday roast”.
She’d plant her tongue on ice cream cones,
The chill would echo through her bones.
“Ice cream cones?!” I hear you cry,
“That’s no more odd than you, or I!”
But wait, I beg you, listen up,
It does not stop at ice cream cup.
In to the kitchen she would stray,
With cravings with which she would play,
She’d open up the freezer door
Looking in and searching for
All kinds of frozen treats to lick
To get her odd sub-zero kick.
She’d reach inside and she would grab
Frozen chips, croquettes and crab,
Peas and carrots, she would chew
And lick them all ’til she was through.
Decisions made by Mum and Dad,
To help the constant crave she had,
Consisted of a ripe supply
(Enough to make a grown man cry)
Of ice cubes for their daughters tongue,
And into her mouth they were flung.
Did ice cubes help her craving? No!
She’d salivate at thought of snow!
Behind her parents back she’d lick
All kinds of nasty things like sick
All frozen on the bus stop floor,
Left by the drunks the night before.
She’d place her tongue on lamplight posts
(The place that she enjoyed the most).
The icicles found in the drain
Added to her parents pain,
In colder months, she’d snap them off
And suck on them, and chew and scoff!
Her parents knew she needed rinsing,
And though she needed some convincing,
In the coldest months of Winter Yule
They shipped her off to boarding school.
Whilst at school she learnt the art
Of baking bread and apple tart.
She learnt the facts of yesteryear;
She started to enjoy it here.
Her favourite class, as you will see
Was called Palaeontology.
In this class she grew to love
The dinosaurs that flew above,
And the ones that walked on land,
She thought the whole idea was grand.
So much so, in later life,
When she was Mother, and was wife,
Her favourite pastime was to dig
To find all fossils, small and big.
Her search took her to the North Pole,
Where she began an epic hole
To find some trace of old remains,
Exploring what the ice retains.
She dug and there found in the pit
(She couldn’t help but stare at it),
A wooly mammoth laying there!
With frost all matted in its hair!
It reminded her of how she was
Before she went to school because
The ice just glistened, shining bright,
The poor girl she began to fight
The urge to lick this frozen beast,
Her tongue would love it, what a feast!
Before she knew it she had placed
Her tongue upon the beast to taste
The icy goodness that it gave,
Enough to fulfil any crave.
But how unlucky was this chick,
Her tongue it had begun to stick!
She pulled and pulled but had no luck,
Her tongue had well and truly stuck.
The girl stood frozen, mouth attached,
The pain she felt could not be matched.
With one enormous pull once more,
The girl went crashing to the floor.
She sat there feeling slightly peeved,
But happy with what she’d achieved,
Until she noticed over there,
Her tongue still stuck to mammoth’s hair.
There was not much the Docs could do,
The girl was tongueless through and through.
And so she had to live her life,
As a Mother and a wife,
Paying her tongueless, tuneless cost,
All because she licked the frost.

Gregory Lawrence.

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