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The Tale of the Mug-Jack Deer

            ‘Twas just before Christmas                                      

          The back end of year                                                

          When Arthur and Pat met                                          

          That bad mug-jack deer.                                           


         With a car full of presents                                          

         They were heading for York                                      

         When into their path                                                   

         It decided to walk.                                                      


They couldn't avoid it

They feared for the worst

Pat was distressed

And Arthur he cursed

They got out and found it

Stretched out on the road

Injured but breathing

Around them cars slowed   

Pat tried to help it                                                       

Back up to its feet                                                      

Her first aid was brilliant                                             

It worked a real treat.                                                 


Off the deer bounded

Pat sighed with relief

Until she discovered

That buck was a thief


It had taken her handbag                                           

Before her own eyes                                                 

From its antlers there dangled                                   

Its ill-gotten prize.                                                       


.Into the fields

With a head-load of loot

The deer it now trotted

With Pat in pursuit


Each time she got nearer

The deer moved away

Despite all her pleading

It just wouldn’t stay


Arthur she sent back

To check on the car

If their presents were stolen

‘Twould be more bizarre.


‘Cross the mud and the stubble

                Our Pat held her course                      

       She would rescue her handbag          

Though it might take force.


At last by a big barn

She cornered her prey

She reached for her bag

But the deer leapt away.


Into the distance

It went with a bound

Leaving, thank God,

Pat’s bag on the ground.


The drama was over

But after that fright

The car she found locked –

No Arthur in sight.


He had sought out a farmer –

Not gone for a beer –

Just wanted some help

To track down that damn deer.


Their car was so damaged

They had to go back

To Clanfield and change it.

Alas and alack.


The moral, my friends

Is abundantly clear.

At Christmas leave Santa

To handle the deer!




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