Written by: David Fisher

Weary of the mindless malls,
We journey out to view the scrawls
Etched by the Neanderthals.

And there compelling to us all,
We stand speechless and enthralled
Observing scenes both large and small.

Of grazing beasts in boundless stalls,
Diffused in peaceful, stoic sprawls
Waiting for nothing, nothing at all.

Look, if you dare, upon the next wall.
Where speared brutes bleed waterfalls;
Caught unawares, we were quite appalled.

Now listen closely to hear the squalls
And whoops and cries of Neanderthals;
Wreaking carnage in that bloody brawl.

The natives succeeded to shock and maul,
Then worked together to bring the haul
Into their prehistoric mess-hall.

An eon ago the creatures stood tall,
Walking nobly, since not made to crawl.
Now blood dyed granite, marks their fall.

It’s time to leave but I try to stall
By using my knife to get a spall,
But not today, my name is called.