In Competition No. 2438 you were invited to write, in the spirit of Aesop or La Fontaine, a rhymed fable involving animals.
Last week I doubted my qualifications to be a judge, but this week my credentials are copper-bottomed, since I have translated selections of the fables of both Aesop and La Fontaine: a sympathetic pair. Though separated by 2,000 years, I feel that the reputedly deformed Phrygian slave and the lazy courtier of the Sun King would have liked each other. I was lucky enough to be introduced to them as a child in wonderfully illustrated editions — Tenniel for Aesop and the great 19th-century draughtsman Grandville for La Fontaine.
Groggy with peasant wisdom, I present the prizewinners, printed below, with £25 each, and award Paul Griffin the bonus fiver.
The elephant was in the chair,
And all the animals were there.
‘Now who can count?’ the chairman said.
‘Myself, I have a mighty head,
But cannot get past two or three.’
And everyone said, ‘Nor can we.’
The rabbit said, ‘It’s rather sad:
The wife and I can never add,
Although we’re said to multiply.’
On this there came a tiny cry,
From an amoeba in a pool:
‘Although we have not been to school,
In our small way’ — he spoke with pride —
‘We multiply while we divide!’
The moral: size is something, yes,
But there is wit in littleness.
Paul Griffin
A tortoise felt a butterfly
Alight upon his back.
‘My dear,’ said he, ‘you make me sigh
For everything I lack.
You’re lighter than a floating feather,
As delicate as lace,
Whilst I plod on, all shell and leather,
Incapable of grace.’
‘But I,’ said she, ‘as surely crave
Your steady, settled ways.
You potter to a distant grave,
My life flits by in days.’
‘Well, well!’ thought he, ‘Well, well!’ thought she,
‘My fate can’t be so bad.
If other creatures envy me,
I’ve reasons to be glad.’
W.J. Webster
Poor Billy Brown Owl’s wings were clipped;
For flying he was ill-equipped:
So, sadly, all that he could do
Was strut his stuff, to wit, to woo.
His love said, ‘Come up here right now
And join me on this topmost bough.
Otherwise it’s just not on.
Need a pen pal? Get a swan!’
He scaled a steaming farmyard pile;
Its thermal bore him half a mile.
Alighting by his would-be mate,
He sang a song to celebrate.
An eagle took him, neck and crop.
So, children, if you reach the top
By dint of bullshit, never shout it,
Never make a song about it.
Michael Saxby
A cat said to a fearful mouse,
‘Pray come for luncheon at my house.
I have a wheel of cheddar cheese
And other aliments that please.’
The mouse replied, ‘I’d be naive
To think you’d nothing up your sleeve.
Lunching chez vous would mean, old sphinx,
Ailments, not aliments, methinks.’
‘But these misgivings are unkind!’
The cat said. ‘Let me change your mind.’
So eloquent was her appeal
The mouse agreed to share a meal.
The rodent should have spurned the lure.
Instead, he was the plat du jour.
The moral is: no mouse (or rat)
Should ever, ever, trust a cat.
Basil Ransome-Davies
Two squirrels, sleek and plump and grey,
Lived quite comfortable and dry
In their drey.
Mr Squirrel, industrious and spry,
His wife thought a most dreadful bore
Whilst conceding he stored nuts galore!
Along came a visiting red stranger
So gallant and so gay
He enticed the bored and pretty wife away
Before her busy husband sensed danger.
So, workaholics all beware,
Life isn’t, never has been, fair;
The prize goes often to the least deserving,
Which for us moralists is most unnerving.
Joy Ross
A hare once claimed to all the woodland hosts
He was the swiftest creature in a chase.
A tortoise, angered by his noisy boasts,
At once issued a challenge to a race.
The tortoise learned quite soon that it was most
Unwise to make a challenge of that kind.
The hare easily passed the winning-post,
And left the tortoise miles and miles behind.
Their route meant crossing the A34,
Which took the hare two seconds. By ill luck,
The tortoise (who took half an hour or more)
Was sadly flattened by a passing truck.
Moral: do not believe old Aesop’s crap.
Races get won by somebody who’s fast.
Hares very rarely stop to take a nap,
And slow and steady always comes in last.
Brian Murdoch
No. 2443: Take your pick
You are invited to choose a title of a well-known work of fiction and write an amusing poem with the same title. Maximum 16 lines. Entries to ‘Competition No. 2443’ by 27 April.
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