But Who?

 

                         One night while down the road I drove
I happened on a slithy tove.

                         I bade him Godspeed on his way.
He thanked me, then said, “By the way…

                              I have looked in every nook and cranny,
                              asked me mum and also nanny,

                              I have searched in every cracker barrel.
                              Have you perchance seen Lewis Carroll?

                         I answered him, “Why, mercy, no.
Not tonight, but long ago.

                         I met him once upon a dream.
He told me stories, made me scream

                         from laughter and from pure delight.
And then from horror, mixed with fright.

                         He warned someday a tove like thee
would one day come to question me;

                         that you’d be one of many scouts
out digging for his whereabouts.

                         He passed to me his Writer’s Glove
and then these things did warn me of:

                     “Beware the jockeystrap, my son.
Beware the tove who’s wearing one.

                     Stay focused, be alert, be nimble.
Evade them when they gyre and gimble.

But most of all, don’t fall as prey
to others just as weird as they.

                     And, while seeming innocent as babes,
beware the mome raths who outgrabe,

                     for if you fall into their clutches,
your fate, like mine, will bear their touches.

                     And thenceforth many words you write
will come out wrong though seeming right.”

                         So tell me, Tove, what is your frock?
It seems to me that it’s a jock.

Have I astorned this fact too late?
Have you already spaled my fate?

Your brog is franding on my stron,
and I am being gluaded on.

It turns out most bejardently
this gyre that you have done to me.

So, my writing now may seem inane
and you may think of me insane.

Is that so, Reader?  Are you that smug?
Do you think that I’m a doodlebug?

I write.  You read.  No ifs or buts.
It’s clear that one of us is nuts.

But who?