Terence Evans

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Terence Evans had little respect

For the life or the welfare of any insect

He swatted the fly with the rolled daily news

And stamped on the beetle in his Doc Marten shoes

Unfortunate spiders were drowned in the bath

Caterpillars were crushed should they dare cross his path

He bisected worms with his pocket penknife

Pulled the legs off cray-fly and then squeezed them from life

This dreadful, thoughtless child showed little or no remorse

Whilst squashing slugs and snails with bricks and gravity’s force

He’d net the delicate butterfly and break its paper wings

Kill or cripple the cricket by stamping where he sings

He’d incinerate ants by magnifying the sun

And mangle the millipede both for spite and for fun

He was wary of wasps and would always take care

To trap them in jars and deprive them of air

Now one summers day Terence played alone

Squashing tiny ants between two slabs of stone

When something grabbed him from behind by the hair

And lifted him freely high up in the air

Terence turned around and to his surprise!

Saw a great ugly Giant with fiery red eyes

The giant gripped Terence in his large sweaty palms

Then with forefinger and thumb, ripped off one of his arms

Terence screamed in agony and cried for his Mother

But the giant ignored him and tore off another

Terry’s body writhe in both pain and fright

For his legs were the next to go, first left, then right

Then with the clap of the giant’s hands, poor Terence was no more

For all that remained of Terence Evans, lay crumpled on the floor

 

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Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Mon 25th Feb 2019 16:06

I guess all small boys have this monster lurking inside, to some degree or other. I plead to a couple of things I feel remorse
about even now over six decades later, but the lesson and moral of
these vivid lines were learnt in the self-knowledge that I endured - and that young sinner changed: not to a saint but to someone who
would treat creatures with care and respect as far as nature and
given circumstances would allow.

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Don Matthews

Mon 25th Feb 2019 11:02

Dorothy you've put John M's poem
On a level we need to think about
We kill off these animals which are of benefit
To our natural world, there is no doubt

But these kill-offerers don't give a toss
Kill the fox, cull the badger shoot the crows
They're just little grown-up Terences
Adding to our problems and our woes

Come on the giant... ?

<Deleted User> (21487)

Mon 25th Feb 2019 08:38

Do we all have a little bit of Terence tucked up iside us? (present company excepted)

Kill the the fox - it is vermin
cull the protected badger it spreads T.B.
shoot the crows even though they cleanse the fields of grubs.

Your giant is much needed.

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John McDonough

Mon 25th Feb 2019 08:11

Don ... the kid was an obvious psycho, fortunately he got his comeuppance before graduating to furry animals and humans

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Don Matthews

Mon 25th Feb 2019 07:12

I followed Terence in his nasty little pursuits down the poem and thought what this little tyke needs is some big giant to come up behind him. As if by magic....

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