TWO SECONDS AWAY
Large suffers a new remorse
to be easily beaten by a horse
he’s stopped counting sheep
uses old night nurse
now to get to sleep
She’ll have to go of course
looks too much like a horse
and Large sees far more than
the ladders in her tights when
she brings his nightly cocoa
two lumps of sugar full fat milk
and a sight so coarse he’s going loco
He’s stopped taking the country lane
It’s all too much pain he’ll pace
the main road collar up through the rain
rather than see eqidae or bovidae
the latter with its 360 degree eyes
both looking out for him on the sly
sometimes sitting there in the company of flies
or both up dancing with their man-made prize
Nothing could stop Red Rum
forget the bible or book of a million puns
Or an AK47 – Large’s biggest gun
Rummy’s a legend and would still have won
photographed with a bullet between its teeth
and there track side one of the nicest people
you could meet Steeple with his
ol mate Pitman to pen the feat.
Large slips off the roof
heart quickening a beat
hearing a distant bleat
his armed false leg hobbles in retreat
whilst tiptoeing quietly behind him
nigh on a thousand normal
and one very large sheep
Sorry Large beaten by a horse this time
congrats to Joe and his poetry in motion
of dear old Rummy