Never before
Has there been so much war
Between fairies and goblins
Outside your front door.

They battle with swords,
They battle with bows,
They battle with cannon,
Which roll over your toes

As you step out to find
The cause of the noise
And find that they’ve broken
Your child’s favourite toys.

The armies of fairies
Form up file and rank.
Whilst the goblins, bewildered
Are building a tank

Its formed from the base
Of an old water butt
That lay in the corner
All covered in soot.

Off to the left
A bugle doth call
A shout there to arms
The drum, out does roll.

The fairies are marching
Ahead of their time.
They’re fed up of waiting
For words that don’t rhyme.

The goblins aren’t ready
Their tank it ain’t done.
Its almost complete
But its missing its gun.

The fairies are chanting
“Requiem, Re-qui-em.
Come on now me hearties,
We go to kill them”.

The goblins are worried
They needed that tank!
The problem with the gun
Is its stuck in the bank

But business is closed
Until nine am
They hope that the fairies
Will wait round till then.

Not likely to happen
They know to their shame
And they search for their corporal
Whose really to blame

For it was by his choice
That they hid their best gun
In the Royal bank of Scotland
‘Now the fairies have won’.

“Not quite” cries the corporal
“I have an idea.
Theres a chance you won’t like it,
It seems a bit queer”.

“We’ll build an armada,
And float it on light
It will not be easy,
But will give them a fright”,

“You fool” cried the hordes
Of goblins galore
“Yer an idiot” they shouted
“And yer mum was a whore”

The corporal he paled
His face it went white
His crestfallen brow
Turned the colour of night.

“So’s yours” he retorted
“Your sister is too,
And we all know your brother
Has a fetish for poo”.

In the midst of the squabble
That arose from this quip
No-one noticed the fairies
Had stolen their skip

It’ll make good armour plating
For a ship of desire
And we’ll man it with boys
From an all male voice choir

All night they assembled
A ship made of steel
Then trimmed off the edges
With fresh orange peel

By morning they’re ready
To launch their new boat
And pray to their Gods
That the damn thing would float

But somethings not right
With their ship made of steel
As it lay in the pond
Displaying its keel

They were missing an engine
Or sails, even steam.
But all they could find
Was a bowl of sour cream

Left out for the hedgehog
By the man of the house
On orders from the missus
And a promise of grouse.

Its not far off nine,
The goblins take note
They’re hoping this time
Its their turn to gloat

For the fairies have won
The last three world wars
And the goblins are sick
Of doing their chores.

The clock soon strikes time
And they race to the bank
To retrieve their best gun
And finish their tank.

But as they return
They hear a loud noise
The fairies have created
An engine from toys

Designed by the pixies
And built by a rat,
It runs on fresh frog-spawn
And the blood from a cat.

Boiled in a cylinder
Twenty feet high
From an ants point of view
It reaches the sky.

Driving propellers
fifteen yards wide
They churn up the water
In a pond filled with slime

This boat is enormous
Too big for the war
Fought by the fairies
Outside your front door.

The fairies are losing
This battle of sorts.
The goblins are driving
Them back to their ports.

The fairies are tiring
And want home to bed
But goblins are relentless
And drive on instead

“This time we’ll win”
The corporal he cries
As a bullet strikes home
And quietly he dies

The goblins can’t choose
A man to replace
The corporal whose life
Was built around grace

His family will mourn
A man fair and true
But whose brother still has
A fetish for poo.

Eventually they find
A man borne to lead
But its Ten AM now
And time to smoke weed.

They break open a casket
Of rum dark and brown
And get pissed on whiskey
Whilst the fairies they frown

For all that they have
Is a bottle of red.
Its all that was left
In your garden shed.

And when they discover
That their ammo is low
They choose to surrender,
To the goblins they go.

“No dice”, the new corporal
He states with intent
“I shall not show mercy,
To a fairy whose bent”

“We’ll fight on, We’ll beat you.
We will win this war.
For all of your chores
Are becoming a bore!”

“But we’re tired and we’re fed up
And we want home to bed.
Oh please cant we join you,
And get drunk instead?”

The corporal he stared
He couldn’t believe his luck
“We’ll accept your surrender,
If you bring me a duck”.

“You’ll clean it and cook it,
With chips, peas and rice.
And we’ll talk through the day
Of my best mates demise”.

The fairies agree
Accepting their loss
And bow to the goblin
Who’s become their new boss.

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