Flions And Meep

I was round visiting my nephew, Jack, the other day (although actually, Jack isn't officially my 'nephew', but then I have no idea what a cousin's daughter's son is officially called, so fuck it, 'nephew' is good enough for me.), and I decided I really ought to put my writerly skills to some worthy use. And so, pen in hand, I started scribbling and came up with this rough draft. Now all I need is a couple of years practice to regain my adolescent art skills in order to do the illustrations.

You know, I dunno if it'd ever be publication quality, but something twisted in me really likes the idea of being a bitter, blasphemous booze'n'butts boy - no, not those kinda butts; I mean fags, ya filthy-minded fuckin - oh, wait a minute - that's ambiguous too, innit... ah, fuck it. Whatever. Where was I? Yes - of being a foul-mouthed absinthe fiend with a piece of big-eyelashed, candy-striped whimsy like this under his belt. Heh. So, anyway... presenting...

Flions And Meep

Snuggle up, boys and girls,
Cosy under your quilts
And I'll give you a secret to keep
Do you know what's outside,
Going bump in the night?
Let me tell you of Flions and Meep.

By the light of the moon
Like a silver balloon,
The Meep come out to play.
With a warm woolly fleece,
They think cheese is a feast.
Part mouse and part sheep are they.

Then the Rhiger comes charging,
A scary and large thing
With sharp teeth and claws and a horn!
Part tiger, part rhino,
I'm sure you and I know
Why Meep and them don't get along.

But the Rabbull's just funny,
Half bull and half bunny,
With horns and big ears that go flop.
But when it sees red
It’ll lower its head
And go boingedy boingedy BOP!

And then there's the Dat!
It’s part dog and part cat,
So it chases itself round and round.
It’ll run up a tree
And then down again - see? -
To bark at itself from the ground.

Now a smidgen of pigeon
And squirrel makes a Squidgeon,
And that's what they are, it appears.
With wings and a beak,
Bushy tail and a squeak,
All squidged in with wee fluffy ears.

The Giraphelants’ necks
Are as long as their legs
And their trunks go right down to the grass.
They’re like houses on stilts.
See them stagger and tilt,
As the herd of them go stomping past.

And look, what’s more!
See the Flions that roar
As they sweep, swoop and soar through the air.
What? Up in the sky?
A lion that flies?
I’ve never seen that before!

When the sun starts to rise
Though, they’re terribly shy
So they hide in the light of day.
But if you go to sleep
Then the Flions and Meep
Can come out in the moonlight and play.