Beachcombing
Tefal
Lopsided head, dead on the sloping strand.
Smooth, sea polished shingle sizzles around
The victim of a mindless, callous hunt.
Transparently, he was born a mutant runt
Misfortune dogged him from his strangled birth
Until annihilation put an end to Bert
When it came the blow was random
His assailants worked in tandem
And cornered him beneath the pier
And despatched him swift without a care
The denounement was not so smooth
As they kicked him in the ocean crude
Tefal sank but not to the bottom
His killers thought he was forgotten
But he was borne by longshore and by rip
And in Pevensey he rested in deep silt
That is until a passing fisher digging for lug
His preserved remains out he dug
‘What’s up’ said Tefal examining his head
‘You’ with saline brevity the fisher said
‘These twenty years I have been there
Dead and happy…
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Grimbeau 