Herbert Glerbett, rather round,
swallowed sherbet by the pound,
fifty pounds of lemon sherbet
went inside of Herbert Glerbett.
With that glob inside his lap
Herbert Glerbett took a nap,
and as he slept, the boy dissolved,
and from the mess a thing evolved—
a thing that is a ghastly green,
a thing the world had never seen,
a puddle thing, a gooey pile
of something strange that does not smile.
Now if you’re wise, and if you’re sly,
you’ll swiftly pass this creature by,
it is no longer Herbert Glerbett.
Whatever it is, do not disturb it.
Text © 1978 Jack Prelutsky. Used by Permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (HarperCollins Publishers Inc, 1983)