There once was a vole, a fox, and a mole—daintily tippling tea from cups with filigree—down inside Mole’s burrow.
Said the fox to the mole, “If you are free, can I trouble you for some giblets or possibly steak riblets, to munch on with our tea? It would do much to lessen my sorrow.”
“My apologies dear Fox, for with meat I’m quite lost, but I do have a worm that will make your innards squirm?” said Mole, his voice touched with frost.
“No. I can’t be doing with all that wriggling and jiggling—my insides I don’t want grumbly. But some lovely intestine is really quite fetching and my digestion will not pay the cost.”
“So sorry, Mister Fox, for your cuisinal loss, may hap you will have to go hungry. Now Vole, a question, no, consider this suggestion: would you like some worm pie, garnished atop with toad’s eye?”
“Ah yes, Vole,” said Fox, “you’re a plump fellow, and despite wearing yellow, I think I’d like you for my tumbly.” And quick as a flash he stripped off Vole’s sash, and swallowed Vole whole with a sigh.
Mole’s mouth was agape as Fox reached for his cape. “M…M… Mister V…V…Vole!” he stammered, as his little heart hammered. “Fox, you’ve just eaten my dinner guest!”
“Mole, fear not, for Vole has ended my lack of a small, furry snack, and now I should be going. But I’ll return next Wednesday to this passable assembly—just invite someone else I can digest.”
Taking Tea with Mr. Mole, a nonsense poem, copyright © T. James, March, 2013.