God vs. Turkeys Before the time of humans When the Earth was bare and new As the sand was poured along the shore And the sky was painted blue A single breed of creature Had dominion of the land God’s chosen kind: the turkey To adhere to his command They fluttered forth and multiplied Quite fruitful, they became They fornicated day and night Each downy chap and dame And God was not too happy “Now hang on just a minute I said that you should multiply But, crikey, there’s a limit” The Turkeys gobbled ruefully For lack of hanky-panky Until, up stepped up a noble fowl By the name of Lance the Lanky He stood at least a meter high His beak was sharpened weekly The Lord appeared unto him “Yes ,Lance?” He ventured meekly Lance stuck out his mighty chest And issued his demands For he couldn’t get his rocks off And was quite bereft of hands “My Lord, I want some nookie And this abstinence is shocking! I’m not the kind of feathered cock To tolerate a blocking” The Lord rolled up his baggy sleeves “Now quit your bloody prattle We’ll settle this the proper way Prepare yourself for battle! Name your choice of weapon” “I will!” responded Lance “We’ll settle on a victor Through the medium of dance” So God moved on the firmament And Lo! In flashing squares A dance floor, he constructed And around it, tiny chairs The turkey folk assembled As the Lord and Lance prepared And to the beat of Tiger Feet The dance-off was declared Lance stepped up and Tap-danced For birds, a skilful deed He clicked and clattered flawlessly And took an early lead But God was quick to counter With a cheeky little Rumba The music changed at His command To a Shakin’ Stevens number Lance tried Paso Doble But made a major blunder He put his feet too far apart And Lord God Limboed under They formed up for a Charleston The audience were wowed Then tangled in a tango Turning circles for the crowd Their Salsa was spectacular As was their Cossack kickin’ So Lance pressed his advantage With a faultless Funky Chicken The scores were near identical For the Foxtrot and the Jive God had racked up forty three And Lance had forty five The Harlem Shake was noteworthy The Lap Dance, indescribable The scores were kept by seraphim So probably unbribable Endlessly, they boogied on They threw the Highland Fling But crisis! Lance tripped over And sprained his mighty wing God was named as champion And not the least bit pleased The Turkey Folk were banished Their nests and corn were seized Then God made just two humans And to save himself some grief Instead of genitalia He gave them each a leaf He made for them a garden With a host of fruit and veg He bid them “See just yonder “Behind the garden hedge That’s where I keep the Turkeys Each bastard one, a sinner So gather up sage and onions I’ll show you what’s for dinner” ;) xx
Posted on: Fri, 21 Mar 2014 15:03:04 +0000
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