The Knight who Rode a Goat to Barcelona
Before the porcupine descends
To right all wrongs and trim the ends
Of anguish
We'll gather round the rushy glow
Of all the embers here below
And languish
Beneath the halo of his quills
Among the long-remembered hills
Of Eire
Where bards of old once told the tale
Of ancient wines and casks of ale
Sans gučrre
Before we knew the porcupine
In days of roses and of wine
Quite cloudy
We spent our days bereft of light
Like architects – though not as bright
Or rowdy
We thought ourselves quite happy there
Though scarcely blithe, not debonair
Unknowing
What the procupine could bring
To such an humble gathering
(Drink flowing)
And though we thought our wisdom great
We lacked the power to create
Nirvana
On coasts of ivory or gold
Where seldom does one catch a cold
Iguana
Where seldom might one glimpse the dawn
Or frolic on the dewy lawn
Pyjama
Less or strewn with blooms aplenty
Colourful yet quite unscenty
Sahara
We settled freely for our lot
And now we've paid for what we've got
Try harder
To eat your greens up in one go
And write your forename in the snow
With icing
For this the Porcupine has oft foretold
That those who seek for streets of gold
Enticing
Will inherit all the riches of the sea
And have their names recorded for posterity
to ponder
The weft of life's rich tapestry
The taste of trigonometry
Far yonder
Where the Gorgon's stony gaze
Penetrates the murky haze
Each morning
And the Siren's deadly song
And the pigg with the luminous dong
Goes crazy
As who wouldnt?
| Contributors: | Roland, P, TG, Elizabeth, The Agent Apsley, O, Grayman, Katie, Robin, Rob, Sam, KT. |
| Poem finished: | 16th October 1999. |