It was a Thursday, at a half past three,
when the Triffid came to tea;
I’d baked a cake, and made some scones.
It wasn’t all that hungry,
as it had already eaten,
and sucked on some bones;
so it just had a – single – scone.
‘Jam first, and ‘then’ the cream!’
I softly admonished.
‘Sorry.’ clacked the Triffid,
‘I’ve just come from Devon;
and there they put the cream on first;
your rules they really make me numb.’
Then, it downed a barrel of cider,
to quench a thirst.
‘Not to worry.’ I calmly replied,
‘Anything else to eat?
There must be a little room left inside.’
‘I do eat meat.’ the Triffid clacked,
‘That’s something that your table lacked.’
‘Sorry, no, we have not meat,
no piggy’s oink,
no baa lamb’s bleat;
no meat at all,
for Vegans are we.’
for its tea.