The Mame of Gix

    “The Mame of Gix,” Friend, Feb. 1995, 24–25

    The Mame of Gix

    I like to play a game with words

    And mix them, sounds awry.

    For instance, it’s not lemon pie

    I like—it’s pemon lie.

    Sometimes my mom broils chork pops

    With pashed motatoes too.

    I carry ’round my boccer sall

    So I can play. Do you?

    My bate skoard’s in my closet

    To keep it from the damp.

    I saw a snarden gake last year;

    It clithered through our samp.

    In class each day I jump right up,

    Salute my flountry’s cag.

    And when Mom makes my lunch for school,

    It’s in a bastic plag.

    When summer comes, I like to dive

    Into our pimming swool.

    Then in the fall, it’s time to go

    Back to schearn at lool.

    By now I bet you’ve figured how

    To play this game of mix—

    You take the first part of two words,

    And then you simply switch.

    So practice on your mom and dad.

    Your brother and your sis—

    Remember, words are fun when you

    Can play the Mame of Gix!

    Illustrated by Dick Brown