My name is the GNOME
And Ben Lomond is my home!
It’s been about 10 years
Since my predecessor (the lion) lost his ears.
He was ambulanced to Launceston, beyond repair
And now can’t be found anywhere.

Once TSL ambushed Foresters on a wicked raid
And finding the lion frozen to the deck, came to his aid.
As the skidoos whipped him off to the safety of the pub
Kids ran and cried, chasing their beloved.
Ransom notes were passed around,
Full of hints of where I could be found.

Gnomes of old had many tales to tell.
Who knows but one probably even made it to Little Hell!
They’ve been skidooed to the summit,
(Who knows who dunnit!)
And found on the roof of ski rentals
(they must have been really mental!)

If you’d taken off his paint, under the layers
You’d have found a ski patroller, ski instructor and an aborigine….. so say all the sayers.

I’m an adventurous traveler who likes to get around
Changing my image like a chameleon and not making a sound.
Don’t take me to town
Or I really will frown.
Don’t stash me away, out of sight
‘Cos I’m here to play and run amok all night!
I’m here for the kids to plan and to scheme
And spend their evening full of wild dreams,
Hatching how to catch me
(which isn’t always easy)
And where to hide me
………..where you can’t reach me!
……. the Gnome.