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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required And there the story might have ended But the bite on Suzanne's thumb Throbbed and became distended, 'I must say, I feel a little rum', she said and lay down on her bed, but as she fell asleep a patch of fur started growing on her tum. She slept a light and fitful sleep Full of strange hypnotic dreams in which she leapt from branch to branch, speaking in a stuttering chattering scream. When she awoke she felt warm and cosy, her bad dreams had all gone away, The clear bright light of dawn was rosy, She was looking forward to the day. But looking in the mirror her face turned a whiter shade of pale, for now, coming from her lower back was a thick and bushy tail! Her two front teeth were now so large they stuck out prominently, And somehow she was not quite in charge of an urge to act, well, more rodently! Now instead of inspiring her yoga class With her incredibly flexible poses, These days Suzanne is sure to be found In the park, (only partly obscured by the roses), Listening intently with her pointy ears for the sound of a poor unwary fella, that sits down to munch on a nutritious lunch of sandwiches filled with nutella. For Cyril had imparted a terrible curse, He was a ware squirrel you see, man, and what is worse, his thumb biting curse, had passed on his populist schtick, and now she's a big Daily Mail fan! In her throat comes a lump at the mention of Donald J Trump, And austerity, well now she's all for it, ha!, Let the poor rot in hell, And the disabled as well, Katy Hopkins she follows on Twitter, She's the chair of her local EDL group, Since she abandoned her candles and crystals, At night she culls badgers, just for fun, with a whoop, And owns shares in a frack site near Bristol. Could this be the end for our white witchy friend? Can the curse of the ware squirrel be broken? Fear not dear reader, there's light round the bend, these few verses are merely a token, Soon in hushed tones by crusty old crones of a miracle will it be spoken, how Suzanne the fair, once cursed by a ware Squirrel was magically spared from this sorry affair by our old Jedi mate Oby Wan of Conorbyn, for it 'twas by him that she was awoken.
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