Reflections on the Goose
by priscilla brett

They said the song of sixpence
The one that’s full of rye
Is about a murder
Of blackbirds in a pie

And over moon they tell me
A bovine spotted leaps
And little bow of tales of geese
Has now lost all her sheeps

And a baby in the treetops
Though softly swinging lies
Is about to plunge to death
World deafened to her cries

And I’ve been told a spider
Sat down beside  a girl
Sent her in a tizzy
Made her hair to curl

I’ve heard a tale of tradesmen
Butcher. Baker. Maker. Three.
Sat in unworthy vessel
And set sail upon the sea.

I’ve also heard of terror
Wrought by lupin form
Brought upon a heard of pigs
Who’s homes had down been torn

To Be Continued ....