Fred, the dead red squirrel

Fred, the dead red squirrel,

said to me one day

(from a dream, obviously),

‘I do miss the natter

of everyday chatter,

hazelnuts in batter,

and porridge oats.’

We have these sort of conversations,

in which I oft reply,

‘Dead Fred, you are in my head,

do you mind if we kept it sen-sibble?’

‘Not at all, old chum,’

(he sounded cheerful, but looked glum)

i’It’s all fine by me.’

and then he gave my inner ear

a quick nibble.

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