Friday 22 November 2013

#37 - And Sadly Under The Watching Trees

He struck his son with a riding crop
Disgust writ on his face
And sadly under the watching trees
Completed his disgrace.

'Dear son,' said he, most pinkly piqued,
'Have you not learned a thing?
When e're he squats to defecate,
A true man starts to sing!

O joy,' the father's song began,
'O plangent, joyous day!
O gnnnnhh,' and here he clenched and pushed,
'Thus I conclude my lay.'

The son looked on, abashed and mute,
His heart had had its fill
And sadly under the watching trees
The lesson went on still.

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