THE SONG OF St. HERMAN CRABB

Herman looked for somewhere safe, somewhere he could hide away
He was lonely and forsaken, he was chucked out in the street,
There had been a row with Mother, nothing new but seemed to last.
But his washing was important! She had done it all his life!
It seemed odd that she should fail him, all the team’s kit left all week.
How could he, the Rover’s kitman, how could he turn up with that?
He had shouted, he had lashed out, he had said more that he meant.
Now his things were in the garden. Now his club had got to know.
They had no kit. They were livid. They would teach him what was what!
In the meantime he hid quietly in the pipe down by the stream
He was safe there, safe from shouting, warm and dry until it rained
Then the sewer started flowing, then that fan began to turn
All his problems with his family with his workmates and the team,
All of them in one large turd strike, hit the fan and washed him out.

 

 

 

 

 

Skepwatha. Book xxii p.17