The Unicorn was no bright spark,
He missed his place on Noah’s Ark
While looking at his own reflection,
Trying to find some imperfection
In the flawless beauty he
Supposed that he was meant to be.
Admiring each and every feature,
Mother Nature’s favourite creature
Buffed his horn and groomed his coat…..
Sad to say, he missed the boat.
Perhaps if he had been less vain,
We might have seen his kind again.
(The moral of this story’s simple:
Don’t get worried by a pimple.
You should always view with scorn
The story of the Unicorn.
He worried over every flaw
And now, alas, he is no more.
So, if you have to be like him
Perhaps you ought to learn to swim.)
Another poem aimed directly at children and at my two granddaughters in particular, but this time with a slightly more melancholic air. As I know that patience has a limit, this will probably be the last mythical creature to find a place in my zoo, which is anyway nearing closure. The unicorn had to be male because my granddaughters know that no girl would be so vain…