Thursday, June 9, 2011

In Passing

asks for a very brief narrative


Oh dear! She's slipped on a banana skin!
I'll try to hide my gleeful grin!
Mummy thinks it's a tragedy,
But it's a triumph for little me.
Serves her right! She stole my man!
The banana skin was a master plan.
This was my last and only chance
Of stopping him taking her to the dance.
Maybe I'll wrest him from her clutches
When she is hobbling around on crutches!



The news these days is oh so dire!
Will it be pestilence or fire,
Earthquake, flood or global warming,
Equine flu or locusts swarming,
Dreadful drought and soil erosion,
Or else a sudden big explosion?
Oh what dreadful times are these!
Enough to bring us to our knees!
But gaze awhile at this painted scene!
Where are the flowers, where the green?
Our ancestors had left the land,
Thinking industry would be grand.
Instead their lungs were full of dust;
They worked long hours to earn a crust;
They lived in hovels and died young.
And for petty crimes they might be hung.
Can you, honestly, say that you
Would give up living the way you do,
In order to live in simpler ways,
Sampling all those Good Old Days?
Of course in the pipe-line there may be
Some untold human tragedy,
But we should appreciate today
Not misery our lives away!

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