Jackie the Wintermarsh Pixie.

Nigel that brazen-faced moggy took a shite

In a Wintermarsh garden there lurks a vicious pixie,
She awaits amongst the ferns, for the unsuspecting trixy.

Sentinel outside Vladimir's stained glass front door,
She lays in wait for the uninvited, whom she really does abhor.

Trespassers will be composted, declares the sign hanging upon the wall,
no exceptions to the house rules, they apply to one and all.

Unwary callers may fall victim to her playful whim,
razor sharp slashing talons, your escape is looking pretty grim.
 
For a Jehovah to come preaching, it would really take some guts,
she has maimed more than one and fashioned a necklace from their nuts.

Woe betide the ignorant neighbour who parks over her wrought iron gate,
no idea what may be unleashed, resulting in a most terrible fate.

A sound so terrifying, she screams like a racket of banshees,
best run for your life before you become one of her woeful abductees.

Mischievous and crotchety, she ply’s her trade with such glee,
a brownie of sorts, she will endeavour to smite thee.

Alas, She missed that brazen-faced moggy with her vicious bite,
Nigel just snuck into the garden and had a contemptuous shite.

Worse when she has been on a bender, full of Lambrini,
for someone so tiny she can be such a meanie.

She appears to be sporting a lacy bra upon her pixie head,
cigar dangling from lips that gave a titter, now she's really lost the thread.

Suffering from a Lambrini fuelled hangover, brandishing a broken glass,
She waits to spring an ambush to jab you in the arse.

Finally, don't ever come calling wearing green in May,
disregard at your peril, repent at your leisure, as her bloodied prey.