A Hollow Log or a Rocky Cave?
Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2018 4:36 pm
A Hollow Log or a Rocky Cave?
If I had to choose into which I’d creep
Between these two for a good night’s sleep,
A hollow log or a rocky cave,
I can’t say I would really crave
Either one, for they both sound poor,
And I’d give them each a terrible score.
But if I really stood to lose
My life, and simply had to choose,
Though it would hardly give me bliss,
I think I’d simply answer this.
It all depends on the relative size,
And the most appealing before my eyes.
For a hollow log, be it wide and dry,
Might just be enough to get me by.
Then again, a rocky and draughty cave
Might rescue me from an early grave.
Yet still, the log might be a mistake.
What if it harboured a venomous snake?
The cave at first might get me by,
But what if it floods when the tide is high?
And what if pirates have buried treasure
Inside the cave, and they spoil my leisure
By bursting in one pitiless night
And giving me a terrible fright
By shouting and swearing around the place,
And brandishing cutlasses in my face?
A rocky cave, or a hollow log?
Why, neither’s fit for a mangy dog,
And if I felt the night so black
Wrap round me on the homeward track,
I’d pull my coat around me tight,
And bravely then defy the night
To do its worst. I would prevail
In spite of snow or sleet or hail.
Onwards, gamely, filled with grit,
I’d plod, and make the best of it,
Until, at last, as dawn once more
Arrived I’d stand before my door.
I’d then collapse into my bed.
No log. No cave. My home instead.
© Stephen Whiteside 25.03.2018
If I had to choose into which I’d creep
Between these two for a good night’s sleep,
A hollow log or a rocky cave,
I can’t say I would really crave
Either one, for they both sound poor,
And I’d give them each a terrible score.
But if I really stood to lose
My life, and simply had to choose,
Though it would hardly give me bliss,
I think I’d simply answer this.
It all depends on the relative size,
And the most appealing before my eyes.
For a hollow log, be it wide and dry,
Might just be enough to get me by.
Then again, a rocky and draughty cave
Might rescue me from an early grave.
Yet still, the log might be a mistake.
What if it harboured a venomous snake?
The cave at first might get me by,
But what if it floods when the tide is high?
And what if pirates have buried treasure
Inside the cave, and they spoil my leisure
By bursting in one pitiless night
And giving me a terrible fright
By shouting and swearing around the place,
And brandishing cutlasses in my face?
A rocky cave, or a hollow log?
Why, neither’s fit for a mangy dog,
And if I felt the night so black
Wrap round me on the homeward track,
I’d pull my coat around me tight,
And bravely then defy the night
To do its worst. I would prevail
In spite of snow or sleet or hail.
Onwards, gamely, filled with grit,
I’d plod, and make the best of it,
Until, at last, as dawn once more
Arrived I’d stand before my door.
I’d then collapse into my bed.
No log. No cave. My home instead.
© Stephen Whiteside 25.03.2018
