The Beglup and the Scribbling
There’s a sunrise every morning,
A sunset every night,
Between then both it’s either dark
Or very, very light.
The Beglup shuns the light of day,
The Scribbling fears the dark,
Thus they will never ever meet
At dusk down by the park.
It cannot be both light and dark,
Tis either one or t’other.
So the Beglup and the Scribbling
Knew nothing of the other.
Until one eve the bright daylight
Was slow in going to bed
And darkness fell a bit too fast,
Or so it has been said.
In any case, for one bright blink
In darkness thick as leather,
The Scribbling fierce and Beglup bold
Were face-to-face together.
They stopped and stared, then screamed and fled,
Their meeting could not be
For each was far too frightful for
The other one to see.
So be mindful of that fated dusk
When next you’re deep in play,
And want to stay up far too late,
Or lie in bed all day
Or lie in bed all day
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In Search of Supper |
Beware the Aardvark’s Supper
So darkly, darkly shines the moon
At night on Christmas Day
When down below in silver hue
The three-legged fishes play.
They leap and jump o’er hill and dale
So happy to be free
From that sticky pea-green ocean
Which hides them all from me.
They sing a sort of fishy song
In scales of their own choice
Without a single thought or care
For danger’s lovely voice.
From out the east the Aardvark comes
With jaws as wide as stairs
To feed upon the happy fish
Who frolic unawares.
“Oh comely, comely little fish,”
The earth-pig sings out loud,
“Pray jump upon my glittering spoon
And we shall dine most proud.”
The fishes wander to-and-fro
Enraptured by the tune
And one by one they step upon
The Aardvark’s dining spoon.
When sudden one small voice is raised
Amidst the wails and tears,
“I cannot hear enticing tunes
There’s darkness in my ears.”
Then quickly quickly little fish
Pluck darkness from the night
And stuff it in your tiny ears
To quell the sound and fright.
The Aardvark blusters “Come back here!”
As fishes skip away
Back to the hilly sea they run
To swim another day.
The Aardvark glumly then goes home
With rumbling, empty tummy
To dine on porridge and brown toast
And cups of dark red honey.
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