One day there was a rumpus, outside in our street
Which garnered all the neighbours to congregate and meet
What had happened, what was wrong?
What was causing a curious throng?
Someone said, “It’s a girl”, effecting this commotion
Lying on the ground, showing no signs of any motion
Then I saw her, a pale creature, spread-eagled on her back
Hair mauve, panda faced, completely dressed in black
This pitiful Goth had fainted, the result of malnutrition
But however did she get into this terrible condition?
A friend confessed, “She’s a vegan, doesn’t eat meat!
That’s why she’s lying in the middle of your street”
I ask all concern, “Why is no-one helping, what’s to be done?”
As spectator sports go, Goth watching isn’t a lot of fun
“Where are the first-aiders, the doctor or the ambu…lance?!”
“No need,” scowls the friend, “Here comes the local butcher, Mr Vance”
A hush of excitement permeates through the crowd
As Mr Vance approaches, his meat parcel standing proud
“Let me through!” he pleads, “I’m a butcher… Mr Vance, you see”
Then proceeds to the girl to get down on bended knee
With saveloy in hand he waves it underneath her nose
But with no immediate results, decides to double the dose
Quicker than you can say, ‘Wicca’, the Goth opens an eye
When she finally looks up, she’s in for a big surprise
This meat hating, sullen youth, just saved by a piece of pork
Her first jumbo sausage, since a trip to New York
There and then she vows to end her herbivore ways
Getting stuck into a ‘full Scottish breakfast’, the very next day.
Noel Connolly
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