Peddlers

Mon père is a peripatetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea. 
With a purposeful heart Pap advances his cart

through each street, bleating, “Take it from me: 
I’ll supply you with hairpins 'n' buttons 'n' combs; 

I’ll provide you with scissors 'n' knives; 
I’ll equip you with wares to embellish your homes 

and to brighten your otherwise lives." 

Ma mère...? She's a chary, heretical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea

who's decided God's dead, that we've all been misled,

but by Truth we'll, en fin, be set free.

She'll supply you with manuals, pamphlets 'n' tracts;

she'll provide you with trenchant accounts;

she'll equip you with books to embellish the facts

from her fav'rite sophistical founts.

Mon frère is a square arithmetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea,

one who vends from a box arm'd with jimmy-proof locks

(a magician friend vanish'd the key).

He'll supply you with numerals, zeros 'n' fractions,

provide you with pluses 'n' minuses;

he'll equip you with functions allowing transactions

more knotty than Thomas Aquinas's.

Ma soeur is a purely genetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea,

one who mongers her wares via markets 'n' fairs.

Former student of Mendel is she.

She'll supply you with molecules, proteins 'n' genes;

she'll provide you with DNA chains;

she'll equip you with diploids (whatever that means)

and her crib notes from sim'lar domains.

Her brother's another prophetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea,

he whose cart, as a rule, had been lugg'd by a mule,

but is now borne about by a bee.

He'll supply Tarot cards 'n' small lot-casting shards;

he'll provide you with crystalline globes;

he'll equip you with rods for determining odds

and those 8-Balls that expedite probes.

My niece...? An obese hypothetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea.

As her stock's very small, she needs no cart as all.

There's some merch the girl offers for free.

She'll supply you with theorems, axioms, rules;

She'll provide you with postulates new.

She'll equip you with schema as well. Only fools

are not ready for bed when she's through.

Ma tante is a haunted poetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea

who recites with a trill and who writes with a quill

and exists, in a word, sans-souci.

She'll supply you with verses in meters 'n' rhymes;

she'll provide you with sonnets 'n' ballads;

She'll equip you with po'sy from long-bygone times --

and her random rhetorical salads...

...whereas I'm but a shy alphabetical peddler

from Saint-Semiosis-sur-Sea

bearing wares in a rack that I tote on my back

which allows me, while peddling, to pee.

I'll supply you with Ws, Xs 'n' Zs;

I'll provide you with ashes 'n' wyns;

I'll equip you with lambdas 'n' thetas 'n' psis --

plus a futhark or two, for my sins.