The Ode of Pencil Case

Estuche

Trousse

Astuccio

Pincello Causa

Pennal

Miqlama

Fude Bako

Porta-Lapis

Cas Peann Luaidhe

Kalemlik

Kasetina

Oh Pencil Case, what fine names you have!

In tongues here numbered twelve have I written of your glory

In Spanish and in French do I softly sigh your name

Of Italian and of Latin I do bellow out the same!

And in Norway I will also claim

That you are Lord of All

The Japanese and Lebanese know right well of your fame

Which the Portuguese do often times proclaim

And the Irish and the Turkish too

Adore you and your storage stew

For many things can you hold bold

More than pencils ere you grow old

And I despise a pencil, yes

But pens I always will caress

For I do use them often

And so too I lose them often

So a steadfast case my heart does soften

For without writing, what purpose serves the day?

Gracias, Estuche!

Merci, mon Trousse!

You comfort my life with your full tray

Now, some will say that Astuccios are not rare

To these, I say: you will not so lightly fare

Into the Caspian Sea, you may find yourself thrust

If you belittle the Cas Peann trust

For those who say to me a cheek to flick is more seldom found than a Kalemlik:

I say be gone

For when in the waking world have you seen a Pencil Case in natural passing?

On the street, or in the bakery?

At the postal office, or at Lake Erie?

On your commute? Or while you in the evening read lively tales of good Skin Toot?

You see, they are not so common

I have not beheld one but my own since my days in the classroom

Neither port nor lap holds love for the Porta-Lapis

And look at you all, a world of fools

Going round with your pens and pencils lost!

For you have not a place to put them

'Cause you have no Pincella Causa

So if you speak ill of my dear Kasetina, as the Greeks say

You will surely pay

If you belittle the Pennal, may you find yourself in a penal house!

Still without a Pennalhus!

By way of feeding a mop with your face, Federmappe will have his vengeance

And as for me, I would trade my llama for one little Miqlama

For this world and all the worlds to come

Are bound by joy of the tale

And there can be no tales what are not first written

And nothing written if there be no pens nigh

And pens will surely be lost

If there be no case wherin for them to lie.