The men of the forest they asked it of me, How many straw-berries grow under the sea, And I answered them, with a lump in my throat, "Not one, you daft clods, they've been scoffed by a goat." "You tell us, " they cried, "Goats live out in the ocean? We ain't never heard such a fanciful notion." And so I proceeded to tell them the tale, Of goats floating, hitching a ride on a whale. What's that, gentle reader? You also don't know That billies and nannies a-sailing will go? Well, sit yourselves comfy, and I will relate, Of caprines aquaria trips as whale freight. The goat, agile ruminant, lives on the whole, A peaceful life when not annoyed by a troll, But those on the coastlines will oft jump the fence, Desire for saline immersion intense. You ask, what they eat, so that they may survive: Sea cucumber, sea kale, and then they will dive To graze on the strawberries from the sea bed, Returning to surface when they have been fed. And oft, as I stated, they'll climb on a whale, As witnessed by many a man who trims sail. Those short-sighted sailors saw billy goat ridin' And thought 'twas a man with a trident - Poseidon, Elsewise known as Neptune, the king of the sea, Who's thus proved a myth, not pure fact like this be. (First two lines from some old English folk song whose title escapes me.)
Sunday, November 07, 2004