After The Dance
The Owl and the Pussy-cat’s daring escape
Led to fame in the Press near and far.
In the visitors poured, and to serve such a horde
A developer opened a bar.
Skin and sun-oil and worse swiftly covered the sand
To the chinking of coins in the till
And, though why remains murky, the Pig and the Turkey
Disappeared from the wood and the hill.
The fowl and the feline felt really fed up
With the Bong-trees all felled to provide
Wood for souvenir spoons to recall honeymoons,
‘Specially carved for your runcible bride’.
So they softly and silently faded away
From a scene now idyllic no more
And found a new spot, lush, secluded and hot,
On a still unspoiled Learian shore.
Jerome Betts
