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‘Alack,’ the little one cries,
‘My pink pony, the one with bright blue eyes has died.’
‘Oh brother,’ says his mother, ‘and I only bought that tuther day.’
‘Oh mother,’ says her brother (the little one’s much-loved uncle Doug), ‘lend me a tenner and I’ll get him another.’
‘That’s canny,’ says Nan (though she confuses gender). ‘If you lend her a tenner, she’ll scarper and buy heroin or a spanner.’
The little one’s no fool, he may be small, but he has balls.
‘Oh Nan, don’t be a cow, he’s a good man now – not a bit druggy, just a lovely cuddly puppy.’
Nan feels remorse and passes her purse to her son who, with one long jump, clears the little one, the mum, and mum’s mum, and flies forth.
Through vale and wood Cross stream and ford By byway and highway
Twixt brook and flyway…
…to the North Parade toy shop, but they have not one pink pony with bright blue eyes. Nor nowt that toyish.
Instead, they offer
A razor with blades, a single skate, a book of tables, an earnest bear, and a fake beard.
Doug proffers Nan’s purse for the lot
…but the git what has the shop will part with nowt but the razor, the beard, and the blades, for Nan’s purse holds but a tiny twist of hash, not a penny in cash.
Doug flies forth the back way. Twixt brook and flyway
By byway and highway
Cross stream and ford Through vale and wood…
…till proud as he should, after such a journey, before the little one, the little one’s mum, and the little one’s nan, he lavishes his hoard aboard the lap of his beloved.
The little bereft one so delights to sport the beard, to shave it clean with the razor and blades just like his uncle Doug does, that the pink pony’s bright blue eyes fill with tears, because, you see, she was only resting.
June 22, 2022
2023