Saturday, 20 June 2009

Eddy's Egg

You wouldn't look twice at young Edward
If he sank all his teeth in your leg
He was dull, he was grey, then one magical day
He was given a woozlebird's egg

His mother had cooked it for breakfast
She'd served it with fingers of toast
It looked rather strange. Still, the box said "Free Range"
Only, this one was freer than most

To all of those chefs on the telly
Mum wasn't a serious rival
She was such a bad cook, Ed had learned not to look
Just tuck in and pray for survival

But it didn't taste bad, as it happened
He thought, "Don't let appearances fool ya!"
Then something went PING! inside of his skin
In a way that was downright peculiar

A change had come over young Edward
It was more than his heart could desire
From a dim little bloke who's a bit of a joke
He was suddenly quite the high flier

Oh, he still couldn't spell, not for toffee
And his maths wouldn't win him a cup
But with arms open wide, he could swoop, he could glide
He could soar like an eagle. Straight up!

To the Valley he flew, to watch Charlton
Twice he swooped down and scored a great goal
Then instead of a hat-trick, he buzzed over Gatwick
And frightened air traffic control

He learned some quite valuable lessons
As he flew to the North and the South
Such as, up in the skies there are billions of flies
So try not to open your mouth

He glided on, down to the Oval
They gave him a souvenir stump
Then over Thames Mead, he lost height and speed
And came down to earth with a bump

He leapt and he flapped and he fluttered
But he couldn't get airborne again
There was no point in squawking, he'd have to start walking
He hadn't enough for the train

When Eddy arrived home that evening
All dusty and sweaty and tired
He examined the shell that had served him so well
Yes, its Best Before date had expired

There's a gap in poor Eddy's young life now
And it seems there's no way he can fill it
He's been left with an urge to sit on a perch
And talk to himself and eat millet

Now, woozlebird eggs are not common
They're as rare as an octopus feather
But if one comes your way, check it says "fresh today"
Or give it a miss all together.

Will Hames
June 2009


The Lesser Weevil said...

I am SO pleased that you've managed to find time to write some more. I almost felt guilty about my little digs that you should 'pick up thy pen, son'. As the mother of a handicapped 'child' (she's now 27!!) I sometimes feel exhausted after she's been home for the weekend. So how you cope full-time, I have no idea. But, a) Your little combobulations just crease me up; and, b) Yes, I AM bloody selfish!!

May I be the very first to congratulate you on this one - I loved it. 'Serious' poetry is absolutely lost on me - I am far too much of a happy lunatic and, besides, THIS is the stuff to entertain. I shall read it to my grandchildren tomorrow. They like Roald Dahl and they loved your Alexander Panda and King Davey. (They weren't supposed to be listening to Smelly Nelly as I read it to my Daughter-in-Law, but we made so much noise, that we drew their attention and, well, I could hardly stop half-way through, could I?). Well done indeed, young man - and Thank You!

Heather said...

This one had me laughing out loud Will - it's wonderful. I love the rhythm and it just carries you along as you read it. You could be the Poet Laureat of Nonsense Verse. Great stuff.

Will said...

Ah, Weev and Heather, thank you so much for your kind comments, and for the encouragement to carry on scribbling. It's my escape from insanity... sort of. Strange, I always thought anybody could do it if they just put their minds to it. It wasn't until I started mingling with proper poets that I realised what a weirdo I truly am, and I absolutely LOVE it!

Mad Aunt Bernard said...

And when you mingle with other weirdo-poets you hopefully realise your normal! Writing is a great sanity-preserver (or in my case perhaps it's the other way around?).

Love the poem,
yours with explosive chortles,

The Lesser Weevil said...

I have to tell you, you have won full marks on the hospital entertainment. Callie loved it and I hope you don't mind, but I took a few of your others in with me - one of the other Mum's heard me reading The Elephant to Cal and apologised for eavesdropping, but she couldn't help laughing and thought it was brilliant. We've had a truly shit time and never was a good laugh more welcome, so Thank You.

There is a REAL audience for your work out there. I'd love you to go and find it. But don't forget us little warplings in blogland.