Genterwocky
After a hard days marching,
Sir Doocey calls in at the Village Tavern
For a pint of ale and a pork pie.
The grim villagers stare at him.
“Do not be travelling on the forest road,”
warns a crusty old beak.
“And why is that, antique peasant?”
Grins Sir Doocey indulgently.
“The Genterwocky roams tonight!”
Hisses the snaggle toothed fogey,
“With claws that catch and jaws that bite!”
“Sure thing,” smiles Sir Doocey, settling his tab.
“Not the kind of thing a Minister of State is concerned about!”
Sir Doocey hits the trail and winds into the murky hills.
He soon finds himself wandering in a thick green mist.
In the distance, an eerie cry drifts across the valleys.
“URBAN CYCLEWAY POLICCCCYYYYYYYY…”
Sir Doocey shivers and hurries on.
A haunting moan comes from the shadows:
“CARRRRBON EMISSIONSSSSSS …”
“Is anyone there?” Sir Doocey calls, trying to sound bold,
Yet his thin reedy voice merely quavers in the cold air.
In reply comes a bloodcurdling howl.
“READTHEREPPPPOOOOOOOORRRTTT …. !”
Sir Doocey shudders and is seized by blind panic,
And flees through the undergrowth.
He can sense an eldritch presence pursuing him.
Sir Doocey falls! And tumbles with a gasp.
He whirls around to confront the Creature of the Night.
The Genterwocky, with eyes of flame,
Comes whiffling through the tulgey wood:
And in her claws waves at him a copy
Of the latest infrastructure and transport report.
Victor Billot has previously felt moved to write Odes to Simeon Brown, Elf Queen Swarbrick, and Lord Winston.
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