BEASTLY TALES

SOUR GRAPES

You, Davis Plum, teach a very poor trick.
With your habitual manner of being so acerbic.
Bitterness of speech, sourness of manner,
What you do need, is a happifying banner.
A needle in the arm, an instant lift,
A pep pill of charm, if you get my drift.
You need the friendship, of a jolly good chum.
Or, perhaps, all you need is a kick in the bum!

“Has life dealt me a most bitter pill?”
“Probably, because I most often feel ill.”
“Never-the-less, apart from being broke,”
“I’m fee, at least, unlike a pig in a poke.”
“I’m free to sit, all day, staring at the sky.”
“In fact, I could sit here, staring, ‘til the day I die.”
“But, the need to eat, and go to the loo,”
“Means that such a course, I’m unlikely to pursue!”

Said Davis Plum, in a moment of pique.
“It’s true love that I probably do seek.”
“But ladies seem unimpressed with my acerbic manner.”
“Perhaps I should lighten up, not chuck in the spanner!”
One day, at last, he met a lady fair,
She walked and talked so softly, she seemed to float on air.
“I’ve been searching for someone to send me over the moon,”
“We can dwell together, until we, each, look like a prune!”
So broke, but happy, for decades they did dwell,
Until one of them died, and then began to smell!
The survivor then sat staring at the sky.
Wondering how long it would be, before he too, would die.
At last that survivor did fall off their perch.
No further need for them, in daily routine to lurch!
So we should each try to be happy with our lot.
Even when surrounded by many a stupid sot.