BEASTLY TALES

THE VAGABOND

So now that we’ve sorted all of that out,
Let’s go back to our jolly vagabond lout.
His name was Lennie Lightbottom and he,
By choice, a Vagabond wanted to be.
He didn’t like any responsibility,
And he simply thrived on Billy Tea.
He’d tramp from town to town,
Enjoying the scenery, not looking down.
Sometimes he would hitchhike certain stages.
Although he might be waiting for ages,
He always kept ten bob in his pocket,
In case the coppers chased like a rocket,
To ascertain if he had visible means of support,
The vagrancy laws, now, said that he ought.

Now Lennie was a trickster too,
For instance he would go to a loo,
And, crawling under cubicle dividers,
He would secure the doors from the inside lock providers.
Which made it awkward for those in a hurry.
(Perhaps, they’d had a Vindaloo curry)
To gain access when the need is great,
Not the actions of a friend or a mate.

One day Lennie was walking along,
Singing what he thought to be a vagabond song.
He had reached a particularly high note,
A passerby thought he had cut his throat!
He urgently called the ambulance,
Not checking Lennie, he didn’t chance,
To see all the blood and gore,
If Lennie’s throat was really sore.
It all turned out, of course,
That Lennie was none the worse,
For all his singing, both high and loud,
But he had attracted quite a crowd.
One in the crowd said, “Let’s have a whip around!”
And Lennie enjoyed wealth new-found,
As the generous folk of that small town,
Passed a bag of coins to Lennie, the clown.