The Land of Ick

Oh, I’m in a land not far away
And I don’t intend to stay

I keep stepping on some gooey stuff
It’s not funny, please don’t laugh

The place smells kinda funky
Urgh, the river’s green and sticky

Trees are made of dried snots
The weather’s humid hot!

The local tribes are evil things
They call themselves “the phlegm”
They lured me here though ice cold drinks
And now I’m trapped with them

So *cough*, can someone please help me?
Pull me out of here
They’re sucking my energy, bit by bit
I might just disappear!


Prepared by: Grace Gwee
Date: 22 April 2009, 2.00pm