Yet, aloud from the south,
With a pipe in his mouth,
Comes a young noble hero,
Called Zebedee Zero.
With pick-axe in hand
And a cheap magic wand,
And his pea-shooter ready,
He runs fast, young Zebedee.

At a quarter to ten,
He meets with his men
And, say they: “We’ll make deceased
That terrible beast
And we’ll cut off his hair,
Like we just couldn’t care,
Then we’ll shout with delight
As we run from the fight.”

So at a quarter to ten,
The beast met the men,
And he ripped them to shreds,
Left their bodies in the flower beds,
All crippled and bloodied,
Their tattered clothes muddied,
And then sped of victorious,
Saying “Winning is glorious!

“I must do this more often,
To show I am no soft one:
No, I could destroy
Every grown man or boy
Who would ever but dare
To cut off my hair.
Oh yes I shall kill
Every one, what a thrill!”

So the moral of this tale
Must be never to hail
That you are a winner
Against a beast that will have you for dinner.
Be humble and weak
Don’t even dare speak,
At least not to McErrol,
The Landowner’s Peril!


© 2000 Matt Everett