The Turtle

By the light of the purple moon I saw
A wise old turtle on the floor,
I picked him up and took him home
And when I got there he had grown.

He sat down upon my sofa
And took off his brown suede loafers.
He relaxed, smoked a cigar
And played a tune on my guitar.

The lyrics I can't quite remember;
Alzheimer's set in last December,
But the soothing tune relaxed me
Until the windowsill attacked me.

It hopped and jumped across the room,
Shedding splinters in the gloom
Until it reached where I was sat,
Then it hit my head and ate my hat.

The turtle thought this very funny
And gave the windowsill some money,
Which it then went out to spend
And dressed itself in the latest trend.

The turtle offered me a ride
On his shell, I jumped astride.
Then he promptly sprouted wings
Made out of plastic wheelie bins.

We flew high above the trees
All made out of cats and fleas,
Then we came across a ghost
Who offered us some buttered toast.

We thanked it kindly, but declined
As we left my pants behind
And travelled far through outer space
Where all the stars wore my own face.

Eventually, he took me home,
Said that I should be alone.
He bid me well, then off he went,
This turtle that was heaven-sent.

And there this tale comes to an end,
I flushed the custard round the bend.
I grew myself another head,
Then took myself straight off to bed.