At the Lion Bar

The lion and the ice cream man were walking in the sun,
I feel an urge for flimmel-flam, the lion said at one,
At two he stretched a mighty paw and said, some Irish stew,
At three he said, dear ice cream man, I think I shall eat you.

The ice cream man he shook his head, said, no, this cannot be,
Go feast upon your flimmel-flam but, don't, my friend, eat me,
My blood is cold, my flesh is ice, my centre is a stick,
Oh don't eat me, dear lion bold, I fear I'll make you sick.

The lion smiled and sighed awhile, my friend, alas, it's true,
But though your bones be brittle ice, I'll still, my friend, eat you,
He opened up his mighty jaws and reached out for the man,
But the ice cream man, he jumped aside, and to the hills he ran.

And there he sat upon a rock and played his Erin harp,
Oh lion dear, I sadly fear, you treat me like a carp.
And so he called the Rangers three who came upon the tide,
And hunted down the lion bold, and locked him up inside.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved