Nature’s Banquet

 

I am the humble Wildebeest -

Mother Natures moving feast.

My mother warned “Don’t wander off

or you’ll end up a Lion’s scoff”.

Some folk call me a Gnu,

I’ve heard it all, there’s nothing new

In puns that you may decide to frame

around this inauspicious name.

 

I guess I’ll never have a life

of family bliss with kids and wife,

cause every date, before I meet her,

some ruddy leopard tries to eat her.

There’s really nothing that is meaner

than losing your fiancé to a spotted hyena.

I’m telling you lads – you should have seen her

they picked her before a speedy zebra.

 

Every time I see that chap

from off the telly – spouting crap

about the predators and prey

I feel I have to shout up “Hey,

instead of filming all this slaughter

I really think you really ought to

spare a thought for we poor Bovidae -

getting chewed on every day”

 

His name is Attenborough I think

and when he turns up there’s no time to think -

we all rush off and hide in long grass

and hope the TV crews will pass

and film something about baboons

and how they all use twigs as spoons.

But no – they’re just here for the cull

and won’t leave till that lion’s full.

 

So every year we all migrate,

trying to avoid our inevitable fate -

a takeaway for a big cat

“Would you like some antelope with that”?

I’m telling you I’ve had enough

of being classified as basic foodstuff.

It’s a pain in the arse at the very least

being a fucking Wildebeest!