Ichabog Schlog Went to the bog To join in the raucous rumpus There were lots of sounds From the trees to the ground So Ichabog danced the jumpous Arms flying, legs flailing Dancing, singing and wailing Ichabog stumbled and bumbled around Trampling the moss and the fungus Swinging from trees Happy and free In the dusk of the raucous rumpus Ichabog Schlog Traipsed through the bog Jumping and bouncing a bunches Till the sounds died down And on the ground Lay smashed all of the bugses
Inside “Ichabog Schlog”
My toddler and I like to make up stories together. He loves to makes up different names for animals and other characters, and I try to put all the different things he says together. Most often these end up being really lame incomplete stories, but we have fun making them up anyway. Most of the time we get some good laughs out of them.
Thinking about those stories and the names made up by a toddler the first two lines, “Ichabog Schlog—Went to the bog” came to me. I just needed to know why Ichabog went to the bog and what happened there. At that point several things entered my mind. I thought about Shel Silverstien and the wonderfully strange pictures with his poems. For some reason, I also thought about that time of year when the cicadas are so loud it is almost unpleasant just to be outside. Then, a rough image of this character came into my mind, and I knew what Ichabog was doing.
My toddler loves to dance. He spins, flips, and flings his body all over the place if he hears a song that strikes his fancy. Sometimes it reminds me of Max’s “wild rumpus” in Where the Wild Things Are. I thought that is probably how Ichabog dances; however, instead of dancing to songs Ichabog is like a wannabe Tom Bombadil dancing to the noises of nature. Ichabog Schlog went to the bog to have a party with all those noisy bugs (probably frogs and other critters too). Unfortunately, like a toddler, Ichabog’s convulsive dancing style along with a lack of kinesthetic awareness results in Ichabog Schlog smushing all the bugs that were making the wondrous music. He was having so much fun he became his own killjoy. Such is life.
I hope you enjoyed this weird little story. Maybe you’ll share it with your kids or some kids you know. They may not get it. Then again, they might. Kids catch on to the strangest stuff. Either way, reading with your kids is a good thing, and this poem is short enough that it doesn’t require much attention.