Newswire » Culture » The Bull and the Crow

The Bull and the Crow

Crow and bull

I thought some readers would enjoy a little humour for a change.
This is a little poem I wrote in 2013 for my book.

The Bull and the Crow         5th July 2013

A crow quite old and very sick
Was walking with a walking stick
His feathers dull not shining bright
His eyes were losing all their sight

He met a bull so big and proud
That when he puffed he puffed aloud
Saying his protein diet kept him young
And suggested the crow should eat his dung

The crow he eat it for a while
It made him strong this made him smile
He told the bull its thanks from me
And took a flight for the bull to see

He flew up to a high tree top
And started crowing without stop
The farmer couldn’t stand for this
He shot the crow for silent bliss

Now there’s a moral to all of it
If you rise to the top on just bullshit
Don’t broadcast it by the way you strut
Just use your head and keep your bloody mouth shut

#hashtags logo Hashtags:

2 Responses

  1. Tony Gorman says:

    Fantasia 4th October 2012 by/ Tony Gorman

    One night by the light of the moon
    The clothesline came alive
    The shirt caused the blouse to swoon
    When asked up to dance for a jive

    The socks and the nylons they danced
    Their footwork mesmerised all the rest
    In excitement a bra hit the ground
    But there wasn’t a sign of a breast

    The old bloomers wiggled about
    As the music it played Le Bamba
    The long johns they stayed on the line
    As they were too old to dance to a Samba

    The underpants stayed there erect
    From the water with starch that was used
    And the knickers they went up and down
    All the rest on the line just caroused

    The night it had passed very fast
    And the pink bloomers started to blush
    For right in its seat was a hole showing all
    Cause by a thorn from that gooseberry bush

    The trousers and dancing dress
    Had talents that they soon would reveal
    As they showed their class at Riverdance
    To a classical old Irish reel

    At dawn all the hankies they cried
    As the breeze blew them all in the air
    For the heat of an iron they must face
    And the thoughts of being scorched was their scare

    The secrets of that special night
    Would be theirs for evermore
    And someday day before they’re worn and old
    They’ll meet up for a dance as before


    Again to add a bit of humour I have added another one of my poems from my book Poems of Reality.
    Visualise your clothesline coming alive and be careful where you put each item of clothing when you’re hanging out your washing from now on.
    I hope all FRG readers enjoy it

  2. Admin says:

    Thanks Tony another exceptional piece!


Leave a Reply

© 1991-2014 Fountain Resource Group Ltd. · Registered Company Number: 193051C · RSS · Website designed by Solid Website Design