Stanley's Plight
When Stan came back
to work last Monday
his tool box
wasn’t to be found.
Look and look he surely did
but it wasn’t on the ground.
Yet poor old Stan - did search and search
around & round & round.
He was a little muddled
he probably would be still
if Zub he hadn’t seen
he would be raging still.
When all at once he heard a cry
his tools could be found up high.
He took a ladder and with haste
was up it like a race,
but when he next looked at that space -
the ladder was gone, without a trace.
Rant and rave he may as well
for Stan could only fume
yet it wasn’t long at all my friend
until he was on the moon.
For there at last his pride and joy
among the years of dust and gloom.
Now our man Ouggy was no mug
though capable of a fierce bear hug.
Swiftly he did grasp a length of rope
without it even he, was without hope.
Around his brown toolbox
he tied his knot;
and proceeded promptly to lower it down
till he had it safely, on the ground.
Yet alas, at this stage his luck went sour
it was not to be his finest hour.
Upon the scene appeared two goons
‘twas lecherous Lewis and his side-kick Craig
they were about to steal the stage
or should I say, the precious box?
Now Stan up high still was stuck
when they ran off with his hard-won luck.
Remembering back I can see it still
Stan roaring off like an Elephant Bull
chasing lecherous Lewis and sneaky Craig;
like a gleeless Elephant Mother
chasing off after her missing cow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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