The Mame of Gix

By Judith Harkham Semas

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