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"FOUL PLAY"

It was Christmas Eve in Treorchy

As dawn broke in the sky,

From a shop door along the high street

There came a plaintive cry.

 

It was Cyril the family butcher

Who ran into the street,

“Help, help, help please help,” he cried,

“Somebody’s stolen my meat.”

 

“The legs of pork and the beef steaks,

Turkey’s and lamb chops too,

There’s nothing left they’ve cleaned me out,

Oh!  What am I to do?”

 

Along came Plod the policeman,

“’Ello, ‘ello,” said he,

He listened to Cyril’s tale of woe

Then checked the close circuit T.V.

 

“’Twas a juggernaught, it went that way,”

He sighed and mopped his brow,

“No chance of catching up with them

They’ll be miles away by now.”

 

Then just like Aladdin in Panto

Out from a shop nearby

Came Mal on his magic carpet

He soared into the sky.

 

“Follow me I’ll find the scoundrels,

Come on,” he yelled, “Lets go,”

Then he headed for the mountains

The peaks all-capped with snow.

 

It was on Dowlais Top that Mal spied them,

“Twas the smoke that gave them away,

The juggernaught had crashed and caught fire

A most spectacular display.

 

The turkeys and meat were recovered

And Cyril rejoiced with a yell

Now, not only could he charge for the turkeys

But for cooking them as well.

by Anna Brown, Regent St., Treorchy