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"I would never have thought I'd be destined to hear
All their claims of enjoyment that came to my ear,
But it surely was serious, that much is clear
And my hardened resolve didn't waver or veer;
For though how this had happened I couldn't say whence
All the men in the town had abandoned all sense;
But I tried to resolve as the moment grew tense
How to cut through the spell that had gotten so dense;
So I picked up a whistle I'd seen someone drop
I supposed it belonged to the tickle-mad cop,
Chose my moment to draw a deep breath from the top
Blow the whistle quite hard and then loudly yell, 'STOP!'

I'd put all of the force that I'd had in that yell
And I'd marshaled my voice to ring out like a bell,
But the task still remained as a might hard sell
No-one wanted to listen, that much I could tell;
But I'd met with resistance all over the land
And I saw it develop the way that I'd planned,
As they all felt the call of my urgent command
And I saw the slow halt of each foot-tickling hand;
As arch-teasing feathers declined in their wriggling
And tormented toes discontinued their wiggling,
And sole-walking fingers just let off their jiggling
The tickled barefooters all slowly stopped giggling;

I regarded them calmly and told them my name
And related a bit of my decorous fame,
As I tried to reopen a sense of their shame
And asked just what began their bare feet-tickle game;
It was surely not something they'd found on their own
I was certain they'd had an assist from unknown,
But if one man had conquered them, acting alone
Then my challenge was rapidly growing in tone;
So a twenty-year-old with his face slightly red
Grew quite eager to tell, and soon conquered his dread,
And revealed who'd put foot ticking into his head
'It's the Barefootin Tickler,' he finally said;"