One Scope! Two scopes! Red Scope! Blue Scope!

The hunters in Whoville,
The tall and the small,
Stopped hunting for Beast,
And started to brawl.

“What will we do,
With no meat for the feast?”
Cried Denny Don Darf,
All covered in yeast.

I cooked up the onions!
I fried up the beans!
I’d roast some fresh flesh,
But there’s none to be seen!

The Whos down in Whoville,
Weren’t pleased in the least!
“Just where,” they exclaimed,
“Did you put the roast beast?”

Where is the sweet smell,
Of game in the pot?
And tasty, fried figglehumps,
All steamy and hot?

Without the two cooking,
Our Christmas is not!

Then Denny Don Darf,
Began to explain,
“The hunt, I’m afraid,
Was delayed due to rain.”

The Who scopes all leak.
They rattle and squeak.
The metal is rusted.
They are Whoville antiques!

Our scopes are all old,
And are covered in mold,
That’s made them all blurry,
And won’t zero, I’m told.

Then Leupoldo de Squinty,
The Who with Glockoma,
Who made all the scopes,
In his villa in Roma,
Declared he would work,
Till his workers were sore,
To produce a great scope,
That would be so much more!

“I’ll make the new scopes,
In a Who town called Greeley.
And I’ll make them for all,
And I’ll give them out freely!”

And the day soon arrived,
When de Squinty revealed,
The scope for the guns,
That would provide the Who meals.

And a hush fell over the crowd in the square,
As Denny Don Darf took the box that was there.

He opened the top,
And his eyes became wide,
As he looked at the thing
That lay silent inside.

Did he scream?
Did he mock?
Did he swallow his socks?
No, he just stood there.
A Who lost in shock!

“It came without lens caps!
It came without rings!
There is no side focus!
Or symmetrical bling!
How in the world can we use
Such a thing?

And the Whos turned to look,
At de Squinty and saw,
A Who so enraged,
He demanded lynch law!

“How dare you insult me!
You want bling at this price?
If you want fancy,
Go buy a Zeiss!”

copyright 2019, Stephen Redgwell