Waterlogged timber floating?
In a placid man-made lake No,
Not at all, it’s a crocodile thrown
Into the water by a man who
Thought that reptiles could be
Tamed and wag a tail when he
Felt good and wished to pat
The crock on its scaly head and
Let it sleep on the sofa.

No fish left and vainglorious
Goats, which used to come and
Admire their own reflection in
The smooth lake, disappeared as
Did lone anglers and dogs that
Thought that the half submerged
Tree on the shore was a request
To cock a leg, a mistake never
Repeated

The man, with the red fedora and
Tight fitting green corduroy, who
Used to herd long legged sheep
Vanished too, but he fled to the city
To get away from bantam minded
Peoples’ ignorant snigger and
Polluted remarks; makes a living
Selling paintings of idyllic villages
In the Algarve

They have emptied the lake now
And the crocodile became seven
Expensive suitcases, two handbags,
A wallet and a marathon runners
Headband; a disgrace really ’cause
The reptile wasn’t to blame, it was
Splashing about on the Nile when
Caught, only did what crocks do and
That doesn’t include being a pet.