Interlude 7—Nonsenses

Sunrise? Sunset?

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

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.