Candy King

In England lived a boy so vile,
At breakfast he’d devour a pile,
Of every single flavoured sweets,
And sticky, gooey chocolate treats.
Cola cubes and jelly snakes,
Fifteen giant birthday cakes,
Flying saucers, sherbet dips,
Bubblegum and cherry lips.

With breakfast down you’d think that he,
Had eaten quite enough to be,
Ready to switch from this junk food,
To something wholesome! Something good!
Alas, just sweeties would suffice,
To him these treats were paradise.
“I’m absolutely fine and dandy,
Eating this delightful candy”
He cried aloud as he shoved in,
Four hundred biscuits from the tin.
The biscuits were his pre-lunch snack,
Before he launched a full attack,
Upon his favourite dark lagoon,
Of melted chocolate (with a spoon),
You’d think by now he’d had enough,
Of all this sweet and sticky stuff,
But then you’d hear the shouts of “Mum,
I need a tub of chewing gum!”
He’d chew and chomp and munch and gnaw,
Until he could not move his jaw,
Then swap the gum for seven cases,
Filled with bright red strawberry laces.

Before he went to bed he’d glug,
Six pints of soda from a jug,
Then quickly rush back down the stairs,
And wolf a tub of gummy bears.
Some people even said his dreams,
Were filled with chocolate raspberry creams,
And as he slept he stuffed his chops,
With sugar coated lemon drops.

But then one day the little boy,
(While playing with his favourite toy),
Screamed out “Oh Mummy! Have you seen,
My hair has turned the brightest green!”
His Mum looked over, terrified,
“Your skin’s turned purple too” she cried,
“With quite disgusting yellow spots”
And little orange polka dots”
“Oh no!” He said “What shall we do?”
“I’m taking you to Dr Sue!”
“I’m sure” Said mum “That she will know”
“Put your shoes on, quick, let’s go!”
His mother rushed him to the doc,
Who looked at him with utter shock,
“In all my days, I’ve never seen”
“A boy look like a jelly bean!”
“Dear boy” she said “I have a cure”
“But you must promise me that you’re”
“Going to change your frightful way”
“And eat your veggies every day?”
He said “I will be good as gold”
“’til I turn eighteen years old”
“I’ll eat my veggies every day”
“And change my sweetie-eating way”
“Right, that’s good enough” She said,
The boy now face down on the bed,
“OK, hold still then while I pump”
“This medicine into your rump!”

The antidote then filled his veins,
And through the awful groans and pains,
He shouted out “I’ll never eat,
“Another blooming nasty sweet!”
And, sure enough, from that point on,
His sweetie-eating days were gone!

The End