One of our recent Food4Macc manure collection trips evoked this poem:-
Quirky Turkey
: A Labour Of Love
The turkey glided proudly by, fanning out its tail,
A stately Spanish galleon sedately in full sail.
Plumage mottled black and white, it ushered by its mate,
Relishing its status as one of those who dominate,
Even though it sailed upon a “sea” of horse manure
And we were there to see the status quo did not endure.
“I’ll have it in a verse”, I thought, “Before this day shall
end.”
“I’ll have it on my plate”, said Bill, “I trust I don’t
offend.”
But Bill’s was only banter. His blue eyes brightly twinkled.
The turkey’s glare was fierce, his wattle pink and wrinkled.
One finger of a rubber glove, it dangled from its beak,
And wildly danced each time the turkey griped in Gobble
Speak.
As bag by bag we took away, the turkey’s realm receded
And several times our efforts he purposely impeded.
He fought a losing battle, his Armada at Cadiz,
And we were quite determined that we would do the “biz”:
Like a hydra-headed Moses, who was parting the Red Sea,
We went about our Augean task with something close to glee.
We dressed like Harold Steptoe (whose horse was “Hercules”)
And carted off this bounty for potatoes, beets and peas.
The yard was cleared. The heap was gone. We were tired but
relaxed.
Our job was done. We’d finished here, so lyrical I waxed
Whilst Bill, content with biscuits, had the turkey left to
thank,
But, deflated by this pillage, its heart and tail both sank.
©Phil Poyser, Macclesfield, 13th./17th./29th.
March, 29th. and 30th. April, 2012
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