2 September 2010

The Duck

I once met a duck,
I was driving a barge,
He wouldn’t move over,
Started giving it large,
Saying things like
“you don’t even know you’re born”
I had to shout at him,
Barges don’t have horns,
It was a strange situation,
Quite hard to guage,
A talking duck
Suffering from canal rage,
So in the end
I just ran him down,
He floated up behind,
I think he’d drowned,
I felt a bit bad,
So at the end of my journey
I bought a book
on taxidermy,
I cut him open,
Took out his insides,
Put him on a nice stand,
And gave him glass eyes,
And now the duck
Sits on my mantelpiece,
With a couple of badgers
And a gaggle of geese
And a number of squirrels
And a fox and a cat
And a sheep and a dog,
I just realised that
I may have actually
Got a bit carried away,
But I ran them all down
So they were dead anyway,
If you want to blame someone
For these newly departed,
Blame that damn duck,
He’s how it all started.


Nick said...

Very enjoyable as an early morning missive - got your creative side back then?

Krystal said...

This is beautiful.