Ambrose Lyons 2015

Fig

A bearded boy ploughed through the grass

He could not hear, nor could he pass

The gate had spoken,

But the trees were open

“La di ho, Fetro!”

 

So the fig boy ploughed, on and on

With beard growing ever long,

A cat beside, and no-one inside  

Except some brick and whim.

 

A tuft-boy sat, upon a leaf

He didn’t know why, nor had he teeth

The water so clear,

As he skipped without fear

“Gos tyur, votep?”

 

So the red boy walked, he could not cease,

Clouded he was, and without peace

Bird above

Filled with love 

And a deep understanding of none.

 

Up from the grass

In a large hollow bask’

Sitting there drinking tea.

To a tree he looked

Where he then became hooked

On the sight of a juniper friend.

The sand on the hill

Usually still

Began to shake and stir

For those who saw, it was truly a bore

“Ho, he ha, ha ha.”