A Reuters news item told me that a robber in Lagoshad used black magic to transform himself into a goat to escape arrest.
Not fooled, the police arrested the goat.
It seemed to be to be the stuff ballads are written about. I have an example...
The Ballad of Billy, the Kid.
Gather round while I tell you of Billy the Kid:
A petty crim in Lagos, famous for what he did.
Billy, as a party trick, would turn into a goat.
First he’d take your wallet, then he’d eat your coat.
Chorus.
Billy was a rascal. Billy was a scamp.
Billy, to the crims, was the undisputed champ.
Billy was capricious. Billy would prevail.
Billy used witchcraft to stay away from jail.
He ruled the streets of Lagos, Prince of this domain,
Brashly re-offending, time and time again.
When the police came looking, for a robber man,
Billy changed to goat and nibbled at their van.
Chorus.
One sad day they saw him, trying to steal a car,
The goat trick finally failed him, he couldn’t drive it far.
They took him to the station, threw him in a cell.
He ate the Sargeant’s jacket and ate his hat as well.
Chorus.
The judge was looking sombre, his mood was clearly dark,
Billy’s days were numbered, his future looking stark.
The judge awarded medals to all who had pursued him,
Then, out behind the courthouse, slowly barbequed him.
Chorus.
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© J Cosmo Newbery
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Gather round while I tell you of Billy the Kid:
A petty crim in Lagos, famous for what he did.
Billy, as a party trick, would turn into a goat.
First he’d take your wallet, then he’d eat your coat.
Chorus.
Billy was a rascal. Billy was a scamp.
Billy, to the crims, was the undisputed champ.
Billy was capricious. Billy would prevail.
Billy used witchcraft to stay away from jail.
He ruled the streets of Lagos, Prince of this domain,
Brashly re-offending, time and time again.
When the police came looking, for a robber man,
Billy changed to goat and nibbled at their van.
Chorus.
One sad day they saw him, trying to steal a car,
The goat trick finally failed him, he couldn’t drive it far.
They took him to the station, threw him in a cell.
He ate the Sargeant’s jacket and ate his hat as well.
Chorus.
The judge was looking sombre, his mood was clearly dark,
Billy’s days were numbered, his future looking stark.
The judge awarded medals to all who had pursued him,
Then, out behind the courthouse, slowly barbequed him.
Chorus.
---
© J Cosmo Newbery
---
I seem to have a cooking theme happening.
ReplyDeleteI was just about to say that - all your heroes are getting flame-grilled or BBQed.
ReplyDeleteYou also seem to have a soft spot for Lagos. Do you miss teasing the Nigerians?
I've never had goat, though I've petted a few. Why can't the poems in my poetry class be like yours. I think I will use one of your poems for show and tell if thats ok?
ReplyDeleteYes! ... absolutely delightful reading. loved it.
ReplyDeletelet's eat!
Lee: No, I got the scammers out of my system.
ReplyDeleteMama Wheaton: Sure. Better have a defibrillator handy; you realise my poems are not REAL poetry, don't you? You may cause cardiac arrest.
Foam: Done!
His goose...errrr... goat was cooked!
ReplyDeleteWhat a shocking and heartless sentence.......I guess the judge was hungry?
ReplyDeleteGreat story. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteWonderful little story!!
ReplyDelete