Fox Cubs and Foxgloves
Mother was away, plucking hens
So I got my mead, in the special hip flask
Sat by the fence, just by the green
Time slipped along, Ken joined me there
And the day was bottle blue
And the trees were nettle green
Over by the wood, the foxgloves grew
All spread about, with flagpoles new
Broad drooping leaves, with spikes atop
Each set of flowers, like purple gloves
Men calling out, across the fields
A simple spell of happy needs
Gis a light! You got the hoe?
Wos for lunch? I love her so
Ken nudged my arm, I took the flask
Poured out the mead, a thimble size
The blackbirds played a cheerful tune
We drank the mead and felt so good
And we heard the wagon wheels
As the driver crossed the field
Another drop’s a good idea
I filled Ken’s glass, I filled mine too
I rubbed my mouth, I looked across
From a hidden den, came two fox cubs
They gambolled on, they rolled around
They wrestled long, chewed buttercups
The bees were fat
Don’t know how they flew
The foxes tried to eat them too
With a swipe of a paw
A snap of a jaw
Then the bees buggered off
And the cubs carried on
Oh, that mead, sitting in a field
Ken and me, in a reverie
Then I tucked my belly in
Had a little squint
Drank another glass
Then I said to Ken
Is it me
Or are those little bleeders
Wearing foxgloves?
And then Ken had a little squint
And he said to me
Gis another glass
Then he scratched his ****
And he said to me
I bet you a hundred quid
His little mate wins
Now the cubs
Both wearing gloves
Of silky cups
With little yellow tongues
Silly pollen pups
Having a bit of fun
Boxing in the field
Good job I won
Cos my mum, come running out
Chasing a mother fox
With a hen in its mouth
I said, oh mum
Don’t worry none
I’ve just won a ton
Fox cubs box love.
Copyright © Diane Leggett | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment