Pain In The Ursus (Doggerel #2)

Another poem. This now’s a bit better, I think…

For a certain type of girl, it becomes an epic fail,
To lend one’s name to a cautionary tale,
And for a certain type of girl, it’s awfully Grimm,
To wind up as an eponym,
A lesson learned, at the school of hard knocks,
Now she listens to her mum, does goldilocks.

And for a certain type of bear, it’s ursine of the times,
That he’s not more widely known, outside of nursery rhymes,
And his self-esteem will start to teeter,
If he’s only to be known as a fussy eater,
And he’d take to his bed, but it’s broken like his chair,
He’s a lot on his plate has Baby Bear.

Now she’s curled up in her patchwork quilt,
Wracked with pangs of shame and guilt,
Though she suspects it might just be gastric bloats,
Persuant to wolfing porridge oats,
And she’s scarfing Zantac, by the box,
She skips breakfast now, does Goldilocks

In his newly bare, unfurnished house,
He blocks his ears to parental rows,
About whose turn it was to lock the door,
From a mattress on the wooden floor,
And he knows the blame is his to share,
But he keeps quiet about that, does Baby Bear.

If her fairy godmother could wave her wand,
Would she turn her from a coquettish blonde,
To a sober, Stepford Geisha Girl?
Would such rehabilitation be worth a whirl?
To make an abashed sheep of this frisky fox?
She’d try anything, would Goldilocks.

He thinks of ways he’d like to pay her back,
But he can’t afford a vigilante pack,
Or besmirch her name on the Internet,
Because it hasn’t been invented yet,
So he mutters to himself how life is unfair,
He’s got issues, has this Baby Bear.

The method of atonement comes to Goldie in a dream:
Put her name down for a restorative justice scheme
But surely, you say, no one thinks,
It’ll work for that cub and that ghastly minx
But there’s no going back, once she’s opened that box,
She’s going to make it right, is Goldilocks

At the meeting Baby hears out her exculpatory pleas,
Such professions of remorse would bring a Spartan to his knees!
Welling up by her contrition, close to tears at her insight,
Baby swallows Goldie whole and pronounces her ‘just right’,
And they had a lot in common, this egregious little pair,
But he doesn’t see the irony, doesn’t


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