After The Dance
owl and
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
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Jerome Betts would be pleased to hear them.