Robert Tomlinson

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Donkey Days

DONKEY DAYS ON THE BEACH


Donkey-man, donkey-man, where shall be go?
Third sandcastle on the left, here we go;
Child-bums hoisted on hairy grey backs, donkey-man heaves,
The charge is on, slow to start,
Donkey-bums flexing, left then right, humping kids,
Left-right, left-right, then faster.
Donkey feet trot, front-right, back-left,
Front-left, back-right, and they're almost there,
Third sand-castle on the right.

Another donkey-man, far away on a foreign beach,
Bellows at his charges, now fierce, in a foreign land;
Poor creatures stumble, once proud, now donkey-souls,
Their donkey-bums flex, left then right, now more quickly;
They're into a trot before ‘Whack! ',
Donkey-man's hurt, he stumbles,
There's blood, he's down, crawls on still shouting,
Front-right, back-left, Front-left, back-right,
Half trotting, half dying,
Heading, as he must, for the third machine gun on the right.

Back home, tired riders park their child-bums,
On B & B settees, munching crumpets, telling beach tales,
But see, those young-boy ears,
Aren't they growing to the call of a distant drum?
To be hoped so, sure, every beach needs
Its donkey-men.

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