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| Prompt ▼ Across the new-mown fields he raced, a veritable rocket. I swear he had a bloody watch! (Or was it just a locket?) It hardly mattered either way, for that was just for starters. He wore a suit, a hat, white gloves and socks held up with garters. And as the little bugger passed He talked of fur and whiskers and being late, while all the time his pace got ever brisker. The wind got up and caught his gamp1 and off the ground he lifted, while faintly crying "Oh, my paws!" as down the street he drifted. I swear to God when I see Bill I'll knee him in the goolies2, for bringing dodgy3 home-made hooch to last night's Friday Hooley.4. The pounding headache's quite enough for drinking men of habit. But lines are crossed when I can see a bloody talking rabbit. Pink elephants and leprechauns might generate some chatter, but bunnies dressed like Mr Toad are quite another matter. Form: Ballad Lines: 28 Notes ▼ Footnotes |
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