• 2011: No 4163


    Competition No 4163

    There are many poems about animals, from “The Toad” to “Cats and Dogs” to “Caterpillar” to “My Pet Hare” and, of course, “The Tyger” burning bright. How would the animals reply in verse? 


    When I was a pup, I was owned by young Jim,

    Over hills and meadows we’d roam;

    Then back to the big house where Jim had his fun;

    A damp kennel was my only home.


    As the years fast did roll, I began to grow old,

    And one day I saw young Jim weep;

    For the doctor had told him that my time was up,

    And he knew that it wouldn’t be cheap.


    With hands that were trembling he reached for his gun.

    Did he aim it at me? Yes, you bet!

    Too stingy by far to pay to have me

    Put down painlessly by the vet.


    Now I have gone where the good doggies go,

    So things, after all, turned out well;

    No more boring walks – I just lie here and watch

    Young Jim as he’s frying in Hell.






    Poet, poet, not so bright,

    Stay out of the woods at night;

    For behind the nearest tree

    May lurk my fearful symmetry.


    Mashed potato? Mouldy grain?

    Were they used to make thy brain?

    You think I’m just a cheap thrill;

    Don’t forget that tygers kill.


    Too much poetry, too much art –

    You “Save the Tyger” bleeding-heart.

    In the zoo I’m nice to see,

    But He who made the shark made me.


    Poet, poet, not so bright,

    Don’t forget that tygers bite;

    You’re the one I’d like to munch:

    William Blake, you’ll be my lunch.