268 – Dinn Arrgh

Poem number 268
.
Dinn Arrgh
.
I was eating parrot, roasted
For my dinner one fine eve
When the strangest thing did come to pass
A thing you won’t believe:
I’d just selected merlot
And was pulling out the cork
When lo, from ‘neath the gravy
On my plate there came a squawk –
“Who’s a pretty parrot then?
Who’s a pretty parrot?”
I jumped and spilt the merlot
On the peas and on the carrots
And I cried “You stupid parrot!
You’ve been cooked – you should be dead!’
To which the parrot yelled in turn
“Get stuffed! I’m not brown bread!”
And with that it flew up in the air,
This bird that was my dinner,
Despite its head being missing
And despite its lack of innards
Then it few right out the window
Dripping gravy as it left
And I sat in stunned bereavement
I was hungry and bereft
I had wanted roasted parrot
With some carrots on the side
But now I had just carrots
So I sat and softly cried
And I vowed right there, a sacred vow
To never shop again
At the Pirate’s Pretty Meat Shop
Down in Pretty Polly Lane –
They can keep their parrot haunches
And their turtles filled with spam –
I’m going to shop at Waitrose
And I’m only eating ham.

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